I’m now reaping the benefit of the excruciating boredom of my previous existence. All those days of counting floor tiles and doorknob handles, of scoping out which doors are the supply closets and where they keep the linens. I have the home-field advantage now. These soldiers—they’re on my turf.
The building has again gone dark, but it doesn’t matter. I know my way around. I put Thomas’s headlamp on. Not to give me light—the battery has pretty much given out—but for luck, I guess.
I head for the east side of the floor, to the surgical procedure rooms. I stop at the medical supply closet and, as I reach for the doorknob, remember that I need to fix my dislocated shoulder first. It’s a very painful prospect, but I get it done. Once, I was climbing a fence and fell off. I remember the nurse at the free clinic resetting my arm. Then she winked at me. I think she knew who I was.
I find some useful things—a stethoscope, surgical tubing, tape—and use it all to fashion a slingshot. I’m ready now.
Speed is my advantage here—actually, not so much raw speed as uninterrupted motion. I don’t need to stop and start and move with careful deliberation. I feel myself speeding up or the world around me slowing down. Whichever it is, my thoughts, my actions, are nothing but sure, swift movement. Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, I pile as many blankets and pillows as possible on top of a gurney and push it in front of the stairwell door. Obviously, it won’t stop the soldiers, but that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just want to obscure their view when they open the fire door.
I hop up onto the nurses’ station counter, the slingshot in my lap, and let my feet dangle like I’m sitting at the top of a steeple. The soldiers have reached the landing, and they’re about to find out that body armor can sometimes be a disadvantage.
I hear the doorknob turning, and begin kneading a burn charge in my hand. Then I put it into the slingshot and release it. I hit the first soldier square in the chest as he pushes the pile of blankets out of the way. I shoot a second charge, this time onto his upper thigh. He looks down and realizes what is sticking to him. He tries to bat at the intense white flame, tries to push it off of him, but he knows it won’t work. He steps backward, blocking the guy behind him, and drops his rifle. If he’s quick enough, he may get his body armor off before the burn charge hits his skin, but he’ll be preoccupied while I get rid of his companion.
I swing my legs over the counter and drop to the floor as the second soldier bursts into the room. I only have two mines left, and I already have plans for at least one. I need him to follow me. Predictably, he sprays the nurses’ station with bullets, but I’m already almost around the corner.
He doesn’t see me at first, so I stand up and wave. “Hey there!”
He aims, and I run down the hall into one of the procedure rooms, holding the door open with my foot a moment to make sure he knows where I’ve gone.
Seconds later he kicks the door in. Here I am, standing in the middle of the empty room, out in the open. I put my hands up. He’s got me.
“Put your hands behind your head,” he says.
I do.
I guess he speaks English, because he doesn’t use his translator when he barks at me.
After two steps he lurches clumsily to the left. He shakes his head. He looks dizzy. I tilt my head, like I’m concerned, wondering if he needs help. He keeps walking, but his body is growing heavier with each step.
He hasn’t noticed, but I haven’t drawn a single breath since we entered the room. I don’t need to breathe. It’s like I’ve put everything on pause except my heart. I let that beat. Once. Twice. Enough to keep my blood moving, but only just.
He sways. His eyelids flutter. Down he goes.
I stand over him and think about taking his rifle. I’ve done perfectly well without using a gun so far, but I decide to take it anyway. It’s nice to have options.
Before I leave, I close the nozzles on the tall canisters of anesthetic gas. I don’t take a breath until I’m well clear of the area.
If what that dying soldier on the sixth floor told me is true, then Hodges is down to two soldiers. 8-Bit’s role in all this is still unclear. I don’t know if he’s helping Hodges or not, but he might be.
Back in the hallway, I hear the sound of men shouting. I stay low to the floor, well below the glass partitions that divide the hallway from the rec lounge. I know this lounge faces south. That’s where I want to be. At the end of this hallway is another medical supply closet. My last burn charge takes care of the lock. Inside I find several oxygen canisters. I tip them over and push them into the hallway one by one with my foot. They roll noisily along the floor, bumping to a stop against the wall near the rec lounge.
I need to get to that set of outer windows. The door to the lounge is locked. It always is. The nurses would unlock it, let us in, and then lock it again when we left. But this will not be a problem, especially since the wall is made of glass and I have a rifle.
I can see the outer windows are cracked but still intact. I fire at the wall. It shatters. I fire again, taking out the windows. The men are coming. I drop the rifle, get a running start, and dive through the broken glass wall into the lounge. I roll and stand up.
Just as the soldiers arrive, I throw one of my two remaining mines back into the hallway, toward the oxygen canisters. The soldiers raise their rifles to shoot me. I clear my throat and point. Then I watch their faces as they look down and realize that they can either kill me or save themselves.
Climbing out the window, I balance momentarily on the narrow ledge, then let go and drop. I have no idea what they ultimately decide. All I hear is a really big boom.