expecting this but didn’t really. I just wanted them trained and never imagined her actually being on a team. Reasons why she can’t be put on one circulate. I think about pulling her age thing out of a hat.
“Talk to Lynn about that,” I answer.
“Oh, hell no, you are not throwing that on me, Jack,” Lynn says from behind me.
“Dad, I finished training and want to be on a team,” Bri says.
“I know, sweetheart, but you’re too young to be on a team,” I respond.
“Daaad?” She says.
There is that sad puppy dog look that has always worked in times past. I honestly can’t be trusted when that look comes around. That must be the same with every dad and his daughter the world around.
“Sir, she can be an honorary member of Red Team and hang with me,” Gonzalez says putting an arm around Bri.
I honestly had no idea Gonzalez was anywhere remotely close. I give her a look that would freeze fire. This is my girl and here she is offered something that will put her in danger when I just want to keep her safe. I feel the same regarding Robert but, well, this is different.
“If that’s okay with you, sir,” Gonzalez adds seeing my look.
“Pleeeease, sir,” Gonzalez continues mimicking Bri’s sad puppy dog look. My scowl vanishes and is replaced with a chuckle. I know I’ve been beaten and it wasn’t even that hard to do.
“Okay, but Gonzalez, she doesn’t go into buildings,” I say.
“Bri, you become permanently attached to her like you’re change in her pocket,” I add talking to Bri.
“Okay, Dad,” Bri replies with a grin.
Both her and Gonzalez walk off with Gonzalez’ arm still around Bri’s shoulder but not before I hear Gonzalez say, “See, just like I said, hold it close.” I shake my head having my complete lack of understanding women validated.
“Jack?” I hear Lynn, still behind me, question my decision.
“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s done,” I say and start inside once again. I feel sick to my stomach.
“You did the right thing,” Robert tells me as we head to the showers.
“I don’t know, Robert. I just don’t know,” I respond.
“Bri has done well in her training. I think she’ll surprise you. I know she has me,” he says to which I merely nod.
We eat and the teams gather to head to the hospital. The sound of multiple metal doors shutting rebounds off the walls of our haven as we board Humvees. Pieces of machinery start up across our compound. In our little place in the world, sound accompanies a gathering of people bringing a little reality back into our existence. Driving out of the gate, our convoy turns north for Fort Lewis.
We pull onto the base and park near steel gates, similar to the ones Bannerman had built in our own wall. These aren’t nearly as wide but look forbidding nonetheless. The twenty foot concrete wall hides a lot of the hospital but the upper floors tower above the perimeter. The walls have been built around an oval road that encircles the complex. There is a giant lock on the bar holding the door shut. We undo the lock and open the heavy doors. Driving inside, I notice the gates have been constructed to be shut from the inside and out. Turning my gaze to the hospital, I am struck by the immensity of the place. If you’ve ever been to Madigan hospital, you’ll know exactly what I mean. The white, eight-story building in front shields a giant complex of buildings behind. I have driven by a couple of times but have never actually looked at it closely. Thus my, ‘why don’t we start here’ phrase the night before and Drescoll’s look.
There is absolutely no way we can take this place with the teams we have. We couldn’t clear this complex with ten times that. There is a multitude of supplies inside that we could really use but it looks like we may have to try a smaller hospital.
I look to the front doors and, of course, the glass panes are broken. I can’t even imagine how many night runners must be inside. I mean, there could only be ten but my imagination leads to thousands.
“Told ya it was big,” Drescoll says standing beside me. I’m sure he said that noticing my jaw hanging down to my knees. At least the enormity of it makes this one of the easiest decisions ever in my life.
“Well, I guess we’re not going in there,” I say to Lynn and Drescoll.
“We could get a diagram and find the pharmacy location. If it’s close, we could form a moving perimeter and get what we need,” Lynn suggests.
“Yeah, I suppose we could do something like that but we’ll have to plan that carefully. We definitely can’t go too far in or we could easily be cut off,” I say still in the mind that there’s no way we could step foot in this place.
“I’m thinking we should try someplace else. Like a small clinic or small-town hospital. They would have fewer night runners around and a place we could most likely clear,” I add still mesmerized by the size of this place.
“We could do that but if the stuff we need is near the entrance, then it’d be the same as going in any other place,” she says.
“True. Let’s drive around and see what we see. Let’s find the ER entrance and take a look. I’m still not going in without diagrams and a plan,” I say.
“Jack? Are you sure you’re okay?” Lynn asks chuckling. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. I mean, do you realize you actually used the word ‘plan?’ Did it really only take a fever to drive some sense into you? If I’d have known that was all it took, well….”
“You missed your calling doing stand-up,” I reply.
We head into the Humvees and drive around to the ER entrance. Several ambulances are parked in the large overhang of the entrance. We exit and I walk to the windows. The glass is broken here as well but either the rain or time has erased any sign of night runners. It used to be that the broken glass on the ground would be mixed with bloody footprints. I suppose the hospital could have been raided while the world was coming apart or after. That actually makes some sense. I step warily to the edge of the door.
The teams fan out around the entrance and the Humvee guns are manned. Lying on the tiled floor are the decayed remains of people. There really isn’t much left of them to decay other than some hair on the top of their heads. The rest has been stripped clean leaving just a few pieces of dried flesh and tendon clinging tenaciously to the bone. The clothes they once wore have been shredded and several of their bones lie a distance away from the rest of the bodies. Although the scene is similar to the one when I went into the hospital at McChord, the smell isn’t as bad as it was there. Time has seen to that.
The thought surfaces that this is a hospital and there could be so many other bodies lying inside. Diseases must be rampant. Of course I’m sure they must be in the same condition as the ones just inside the door if there are night runners present. A faint scent of body odor drifts out of the broken door. I nod; there are night runners inside. The smell replaces any lingering thought that the broken doors have been caused by raiders.
As with any building before, the light from the day fans a short distance across the linoleum floor. I step inside the door. The rest of the large room opens up. There are various pieces of artwork lining the walls with padded chairs and tables against the walls under them. Plants, wilted and brown, are set into corners and scattered about the room. They, at one time, must have given a more serene sight to this place of pain. I mean, that’s what an ER is. You don’t go to the ER if you’re feeling good just for a visit. And as far as I know, very few bingo games or family fun nights are held in emergency rooms.
A nurses’ station is situated against the far wall with swinging doors branching off the room in places.
