by Jason Nugent
SAMUEL TOOK THE ELEVATOR down and followed the signs for the lab. He found it after several turns and long hallways. He glanced through the long narrow window in the door. The room was busy. It was a third full with patients waiting to have blood work done. He spied at least half a dozen staff, perhaps more behind the doors. The lab was through a door inside the room and to the right. There'd be less people in that section, but getting to the samples he needed without being discovered would be difficult.
He entered and took a chair along the wall to the right, not eight feet from the lab door. Scanning the room, he found what he needed, then closed his eyes and called up the words to a spell. His eyes fluttered under the strain. Twenty long seconds later, someone gasped.
“Is that smoke coming from that vent?”
Voices rose, then became panicked. Someone got up and rapped on the thick translucent pane of glass on the sliding window to the receptionist. The window slid open and an unpleasant woman with a severe frown looked out.
“There's smoke coming from the ceiling,” an older man said.
The woman's demeanor changed in a heartbeat. “Oh, my.” She stood and pushed her large frame through the window far enough to be seen by all. “I'm not sure what it is, but to be safe, I need everyone to remain calm and evacuate the office. Please do it in an orderly fashion. Do not panic.”
Everyone stood and walked toward the door. Samuel stayed seated. The waiting room cleared, but none of the staff left. There must be another exit for them. He waited another minute and when no one appeared, rose to try the lab door. Locked. He waved a hand over the door knob and tried again. This time the door opened.
Samuel stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The room looked and sounded deserted. He hurried toward the back and began searching for Eric's blood samples. He heard voices approaching and realized someone was coming through a side door. He stopped what he was doing, concentrated and chanted. Once again smoke curled out of the vents.
“Oh, man, I think it's spreading.”
“Let's get out. The fire department's been called. They should be here in seconds.”
The smoke grew thicker, now beginning to hinder Samuel. He continued his search with less concern now about leaving evidence of his presence. The door opened again.
“We've got thick smoke in here but no heat.”
“Maybe a motor is going bad in one of the air conditioning units,” a second voice said
“Could be, but there's no smell. Usually if something like a machine is burning out you get heat or that burning rubber smell.”
It was harder for Samuel to see. He found a rack with four tubes. He picked it up and held it close to his face. The labels read, Eric Smith. Yes. He found it. He slipped the tubes from the stand, placed them in a jacket pocket and set the rack down, but in the smoke he misjudged the distance to the counter. The rack fell with a loud crack. He froze, his heart racing.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, it came from back there.”
“Is anyone in here? Call out. We're firemen. Will come get you.”
“Hello.”
Samuel had to make a hasty retreat, but he'd done such a good job on the smoke he had difficulty seeing. In fact, it was getting harder to breathe, as well. He walked with his hand extended. He coughed, the sound was like a beacon leading the firemen toward him.
His hand struck the wall and he slid his fingers along it hoping to find a door. Just as his hand brushed over the knob someone grabbed his shoulder from behind.
“I've got you. Hold on, sir. We'll get you out of here.”
Something was pressed against his mouth and he panicked.
“Relax, sir, it's just air. Breathe in. We'll have you outside in a few seconds.”
Samuel allowed himself to be led. A minute later, he was standing outside with an oxygen mask on his face. The air felt good circulating through his lungs.
He drew in a deep breath and caught sight of a woman in a lab coat speaking with one of the firemen who rescued him. She turned and made right for him. He noted a security guard right behind her.
“Excuse me, sir. How did you get in the lab?”
Samuel put on a stressed and elderly voice, speaking with the mask on. “I-I don't know. When the smoke started I got confused. I was waiting to have my blood drawn. A door opened near me and I thought it was the way out. I went in and guess I was in the lab. I don't know. I was lost. Thought I was gonna die in there.”
The woman eyed him suspiciously. She turned to the guard. “Stay here with him, I want to check to see if anyone exited that way. That door was locked. No way should he have been able to get inside.”
She pivoted and hurried away. Samuel wasn't sure who she was going to talk to, but she had the look of a determined pit bull and not likely to let him go until she was satisfied. A check of his ID and the lack of paper work would seal his fate. He had to get away.
He bent as if tottering and ready to fall. The guard stepped forward and wrapped a protective arm around him. Keeping him upright. Samuel muttered something the man couldn't understand. He leaned forward.
“What? Are you all right, sir? You need to sit down?”
Samuel spoke again, then placed a forefinger against the man's temple and a spark jumped. The guard's body twitched in a spasm, then collapsed into Samuel's arms. He guided him gently to the ground, placed the oxygen mask over his face and slipped away, losing himself in the crowds.
Twelve
MARVIN GRANT TURNED the unmarked Ford into the main entrance of the hospital parking lot and drove around the east side. He pulled up along the curb and stopped a few yards from an animated conversation between a group of people consisting of hospital staff, firemen, and hospital security. Two CPD officers stood listening to whatever was being said, apparently by everyone at once.
Evidently a fire alarm had sounded when smoke billowed from several ducts in the lab area. No cause had been found, as yet, but the fire investigators were still working. That alone hadn't been enough to place a call for Detectives, but when a hospital administrator had detained an elderly man who had been suspiciously in the lab at the time and he'd slipped away in the confusion, security had made the call.
Grant stepped from the car and stretched his six-foot three long form. The day was warm, and the transition from air-conditioned car to outdoor heat had already caused a few beads of sweat to pop out on his forehead. He adjusted his shoulder rig, and hiked up his pants, then walked around the car to the group.
His partner, Jessie Vega, was already outside the car waiting for him. The short, barrel-chested Mexican, popped a tic tac to cover the onions from the Italian sub he hadn't had a chance to finish when the call came in. The former college wrestler still looked as though he could go head-to-head in a college match. He turned to Grant.
“Maybe we should wait until they talk themselves out.”
Grant knew Vega was kidding, but he did have a point. He put hands on hips and turned his deep black face to the sun absorbing the warmth. Seconds later, he said, “Screw it. Let's make 'em shut up.”
They approached the huddle. The two CPD officers looked relieved. Jackson, a black veteran patrolman who once rode with Grant, looked at his old partner and shook his head. “They called you out for this?” he asked, offering his hand.
Grant shook it and slapped his other hand on top. “Wilton, how you doing?”
“Best as . . .”
“Hear that. Yeah, security called us on a possible arson, but that sounds like a job for our trusted brothers from fire.”
“My thinking, too.” He nodded at Vega who did the same.
A fire captain stepped away from the now silent crowd. He stuck out his hand. “Marvin. Jessie.” After shaking both men's hand, he said. “Looks like a false alarm, or at least there was no actual fire. We're still searching for the cause of the smoke, but there's been no other sightings anywhere else in the hospital. All the patients and staff were let back in a
bout ten minutes ago.”
“Good to hear,” Grant said.
One of the administrators, a middle aged woman with an angry scowl, walked toward them. Vega held up a hand and went to intercept her. “Miss, if you give us a minute to get up to speed here, we'll want to talk to you in a bit. Thanks.” he gave her a gently guiding shove back toward the group and returned.
“They call you for the missing man?” Wilton asked.
“Since there's no real fire here, that'd be my guess.” He turned to Dave Scalarra, the fire captain. “Unless you got something for us?”
“Nah. I can send the fire investigators report over, but we don't need you.”
“Alright, Wilton, give me what you got.”
“The woman over there,” he flipped open a notepad and read her name, “Susan Pollard, says an elderly man was found wandering the lab during the alarm. He told her he was confused and got lost.” Wilton shrugged. “Coulda happened.”
Scalarra said, “A couple of our boys found him and brought him out. Gave him oxygen.”
Grant nodded. Vega grunted.
Wilton continued. “She says he couldn't have gotten into the lab. She questioned her staff and no one was working with anyone resembling the man. The only place he could have been was in the waiting room and unless someone lets you in, there's no way into the lab from there.”
Vega asked, “Did any of the staff go out that way during the fire?”
Wilton shook his head. “She says 'no.' All staff exited through the back door,” he nodded, “right there.”
“Okay,” Grant said, “but then the man disappeared?”
“Yeah. She had a security guy watching him. The guy over there getting his balls handed to him by his boss and the administrator. Guy says, the old man looked like he was going to faint. He grabbed him to keep him from falling. Next thing he remembers, he's being shaken awake by the chief of security and his wearing an oxygen mask.”
Both Vega and Grant were focused with game faces on, now. Grant said, “He doesn’t remember, being struck or feeling a jab from a needle.”
“Nope. Nothing,” Wilton said. “One second he held the guy the next he was being shaken awake.”
“Huh.” Grant and Vega uttered at the same time.
Wilton snorted. “You two been working together too long.”
The chief of security came over, talking into a hand held radio. “Joe Perkins,” he said, “Head of security. Don't know if this has anything to do with anything, but one of our patients is missing. An Eric Smith.”
Grant and Vega exchanged glances. Grant put his hands on his hips. Vega crossed his arms. Their go-to poses when thinking.
“What can the possible connection be?” Grant said.
“I have no idea. Once they found out he was missing, the head nurse on that floor called the number on the admission form. No such number.”
“Wait a minute,” Wilton said. “Is that the kid we called in?” he turned to his partner, a rookie named Lynd. “Hey, Rook, what was the name of that kid we called the ambulance for?”
Lynd pulled a note pad from his shirt pocket and flipped through it. “Smith. Eric Smith. Why?”
“Apparently he went missing.”
Susan Pollard joined them. “Is this related to my guy?”
“Don't know.” All business now, Grant began giving orders. “Why don't we start at the beginning? Mr. Perkins, can you get me whatever info you can from your missing patient. It may be two separate incidents, but I want all the information before deciding that. Wilton, would you go inside and talk to anyone in the lab who might have seen the old guy. I need a description. Ms. Pollard, please tell me what you can.”
Thirteen
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Vega and Grant were driving toward the address Wilton and Lynd had for the missing patient. It was different from the one the boys mother gave at the hospital. It might prove to be nothing, but it was suspicious.
“What do you think?” Vega asked.
“Not sure. It's not against the law for a patient to leave, but the false address and phone number makes it look suspicious.”
“Yeah. That and what Wilton told us about the strangeness of the scene. I mean, a car fifteen feet up a tree? Come on. He had to be exaggerating.”
“Yeah. Want to see that for myself.”
“According to Wilton, the boy is a hero. He dove in front of a speeding car to save a little girl. Not many kids today would do that for their own mother.”
“Got that right. Not from what we been seeing over the past five years.”
Grant made the turn down a residential street with fifty to eighty-year-old houses, row after row, ten feet from their neighbors. Most were well maintained and cared for, but a few had run their course as livable properties and were boarded up.
“Oh man!” Vega exclaimed. “Look at that tree.” he pointed.
Grant slowed and leaned forward to see through the windshield. A good twelve to fifteen feet off the ground the large old oak bore the fresh scars of contact with something big and fast moving. A large crack ran halfway around the trunk, revealing yellowish-white wood beneath. The tree leaned toward a one-story house. It would have to be cut down before the next big wind or that house would have instant air-conditioning.
He pulled up next to the curb across from the house they had an address for. Grant let the engine idle as they observed the house. There was no one in sight, but there was an SUV in the driveway.
After a minute of observation, Grant said, “Well, let's go see what's what.”
They climbed the steps to a two story, aluminum sided house and knocked on the door. No one answered. Grant tried again, this time with a little more force. The center of the door was glass so they could see a shape approach. A slim woman in her thirties pulled a curtain aside and studied them. Vega showed his badge and the woman's face went pale. She took a moment to compose herself before opening the door.
“Is this about what happened?”
“Well, yes,” Grant said. “We have some questions about that and other things.”
She looked from one to the other, than stepped outside and partially closed the door. “My son's sleeping, so we can talk out here.”
“Is he all right?” Grant asked. “We hear he’s had an eventful day.”
“Yes. To say the least. He's fine. He suffered some bumps and bruises, but he'll be fine. He's just exhausted. When the fire alarms went off at the hospital, the nurse helped us down the elevator but then went back inside to assist others. Eric, my son, wanted to sleep, so I just brought him home.”
“But you didn't tell anyone you were leaving?”
“Ah, no. I know that was wrong, but everyone was busy getting patients out of the hospital. I didn't want to bother anyone and frankly I also didn't want to be talked out of going home. When you knocked I was just looking up the phone number to call them. Guess I should have done that earlier.” She jerked and put a hand to her chest. “That's not against the law, is it. Leaving?”
“No, but giving false information might be.”
She cocked her head and knitted her brow as if confused.
“The address and phone number you gave were wrong.”
“They were?” She acted surprised. “I wonder if I gave our old address. I was a bit out of it. My son was unconscious in the hospital. I wasn't thinking too well. We haven't lived here that long. I guess I got confused.” She offered a smile that lacked sincerity.
“Can we look at your son to make sure he's alright?”
“Ah, he's asleep. I don't want him disturbed.”
“Won't take but a minute, Mrs. Smith. I won't wake him. Just a quick peek inside his room to make sure he's okay. That's procedure,” he lied, “You know, in cases where a parent takes a child from the hospital without doctor’s permission or signing him out.”
“Oh, ah, okay, I guess. But just one of you.”
Grant nodded. She opened the door the rest of the way and the tall detect
ive followed her upstairs to Eric's room. She pointed and Grant cracked open the door before glancing in. He made sure the boy was breathing and didn't seem to be under any stress. Satisfied, he closed the door and went down stairs.
Back on the porch, he said, “You should call the hospital. They were in a panic when they couldn't find your son. People there could get in trouble for losing a patient.”
“Oh my, I hadn't thought about that. I'll call right now.”
“Okay. Good day, Mrs. Smith. You take care of that boy now. I hear he's quite the hero.”
'”I will.”
Grant walked down the steps and toward Vega who was examining the tree.
“What do you think?” Vega asked.
“Not sure. There's something off here. Can't say what.”
“Yeah. Got the same feeling.” They stared up at the tree. “What could make a car jump that high? I mean, look. It's not like there's a ramp here. How could it get that much elevation?”
“Beat's me,” said Grant.
“Ah, forget it. I want to finish my sandwich.”
Fourteen
FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER
Phetrix prayed to the gods for the children every day since the destruction wrought by Mortas Frost. He hoped Samuel and the guardians he entrusted with their care would keep them safe. As long as Mortas had no way of finding them, they should be fine. Eventually though, they’d have to come back and reclaim the land. Until then, he’d be as careful as needed for the sake of the kingdom.
Leaving the city Mortas now controlled, Phetrix hunted for the nearest seam back to the strange world. The castle which Mortas destroyed actually housed one of the few places in Chavalon that a mage could open the seam. According to the journal Samuel left behind, there was another obscure location. It was located northwest of the village of Ulti, far to the north of where he was currently.
Remaining hidden within the forests, Phetrix remained in the shadows as much as possible. Mortas ordered Seekers to scour the land, looking for any and all who had been loyal to King Artrus.
