Megan's Cure (24 page)

Chapter 46

JOHN AVERAGE HAD driven past the emergency room entrance at the USF Medical Center before parking three blocks away from the hospital on a quiet side street.
 
Through the sliding glass doors in the fluorescent lighting of the lobby he had seen a young man pushing a wheelchair.
 
He wore light blue scrubs.
 
Average had the same shade of blue in the small pile of clothes behind him in the backseat.
 
He pushed the driver’s seat as far back as it would go and slid the scrubs over his jogging pants and light sweater.
 

He opened the small black plastic box that sat in the cup holder of the center console and carefully pulled out the ring studded with small silver nuggets.
 
He slid it over the middle finger of his left hand.
 
It caught the light from the bright Halogen street lamp 20 yards in front of his windshield.
 
Average rolled his hand right and left.
 
The light bounced off the rough silver and flashed in his eyes.

This would be his last job.
 
It was dangerous.
 
The stakes were high.
 
But the payment – $250,000 – was high as well.
 
It would give him a lot of options.
 
He could buy into his brother’s successful restaurant if he wanted.
 
There were plenty of businesses he could buy that – with a little elbow grease and smart management – would generate a decent income for the rest of his life.

He walked into the main lobby of the hospital with his white clipboard in his hand.
 
He went straight to the bank of elevators.
 
He had been given a floor plan in advance.
 
He knew exactly where he was heading.
 
Fifth floor.

It was a little after 2 am.
 
Dead time, he thought, chuckling silently at the inadvertent pun.
 
Very dead time.
 
He took a few deep breaths on the way up the elevator.
 
When the doors opened on five, it would be time.
 
Show time.
 
Dead time.
 
It would be time to act, not hesitate.

They opened now.
 
He stepped out and looked down to his left.
 
Far down the hall, he saw the cop.
 
He sat in the chair looking outward in front of him.
 
He was moving a little, sort of bobbing up and down.
 

Average walked toward him.

Average speed.
 
One…two…three…four.
 
One…two…three…four.
 

He went by the nursing station without looking at anyone.
 
He kept moving.
 
When he was close to the cop, he saw he had earphones on – tiny ones.
 
He was young, probably early 30s.
 
He was Hispanic and looked fit.
 
He was moving to the beat of whatever tune was playing on some music device, an iPod or something.
 
Average couldn’t see it.
 

When he got to the cop, Average bent down to him and gently touched his upper arm with his fist.
 
He made sure the ring and its tiny needle went through the shirt and into his arm.

“Look out,” he murmured to the cop.
 
“Spider.
 
Nasty looking.”

“Ouch!” said the cop, jerking away. He put his hand over the spot where he had felt the pain.
 
He rubbed it and looked at his arm.
 
He twisted it a little to see if a spider was still on him.
 
After reassuring himself nothing was there now, he looked up at Average.
 
Then he started to topple off his chair.

“Ahh…ahh…ahh,” he said.
 
Average could see his jaw go slack.
 
He set his clipboard on the floor and held the cop in place, pressing him back against the chair and the wall behind it.
 
The cop’s eyes fluttered and then closed.
 
Average held the cop in place until there was no movement at all.
 
When he backed away and let go of him, the cop stayed sitting in the chair.
 

Average walked another 15 feet to the door of the room the cop had been guarding.

* * *

Enzo Lee sat with his back toward the door.
 
He was hidden by the larger of the two chairs he pulled together in the corner of Megan’s hospital room.
 
He sat in the larger chair facing the corner with his legs propped on the smaller one.
 

He had sent Novak home after dinner.
 
The man was clearly exhausted, nearly falling asleep on his feet.
 
Lee was worried about him.
 
Three days of media attention was taking its toll.
 
The scientist seemed more distracted than ever.
 
Lee hoped he was getting a good night’s sleep back at his flat.

Something alerted the reporter.
 
Afterward, he wasn’t sure what it was.
 
Maybe it was the light footfall on the linoleum.
 
Or perhaps the faint rustle of the scrubs, one leg brushing against the other.

When Lee looked behind him, he saw a figure of a man wearing hospital scrubs who stood over Megan who was sleeping in the hospital bed.
 
She was facing away from the man.
 
He was average height and weight.
 
He was poised over Megan, as if unsure exactly what to do next?

“Hi,” said Lee softly.
 

It was his reaction that told the reporter something was wrong.
 
The intruder was surprised.
 
He obviously hadn’t expected anyone other than Megan to be in the room.
 
But rather than return Lee’s greeting or laugh at having the crap scared out him, he moved back a step and scanned the room quickly as if to ensure there were no other dangers.
 
It took less than a second but Lee saw his fear very clearly in that instant.
 
He was like a cornered animal.
 
Then it was gone, replaced by a slight smile and the bored expression that a hospital worker might have in the early morning hours.

Lee pushed his chair back a few inches, stood up and moved around until he was on the same side of Megan.
 
The man in scrubs moved to the machines at the head of the bed and off to the side.
 
He bent over and started checking the wires and tubes.
 
He fingered the gauges and control panels.

“What are you doing?” asked Lee, moving forward until he was between him and Megan.

“Just checking the machines,” said the man.
 
“Routine maintenance.
 
Making sure everything is working.”

After a few more seconds, he straightened up.
 
He looked at Lee and then over his shoulder at Megan still asleep.

“I should adjust her blankets so she stays warm,” he said, moving toward the head of the bed and to Lee’s side where he could move between the reporter and the girl.

“I don’t think so,” said Lee.
 
He stepped sideways half a step and rested his hip against the bed.
 
He blocked the man with his arms crossed in front of him.

Chapter 47

IF THE GUY had come at him with two hands to push him out of the way, or even swung with a fist, Enzo Lee would have reacted differently.
 
But John Average stepped back and then reached out his left hand at Lee’s chest.
 
It was as if he was wielding a knife.
 
Nothing was there, though, except his closed fist with something on his middle knuckle that looked like a ring.
 
But he held it in front of him as if it was a dagger.

Lee grabbed his left wrist and then the right when the guy brought his other arm up to push the reporter away.
 
He held on and walked Average back a couple of steps and then shoved him backward toward the door.
 
Lee was taller and heavier.
 
The guy stumbled back and caught himself against the wall.
 
Then he started moving toward Lee again.

“Stay away from her,” the reporter said almost in a whisper as he lowered his shoulder and took the two steps to hit the man in scrubs in the midriff.
 
He felt him start to buckle and he wrapped his arms around his knees and lifted up, determined to put him down on the floor hard this time.
 
He’d had his chance to back off.
 

When they hit the floor, Lee heard the intruder’s pained grunt and felt the fight leave him.
 
But as he lay on top of the man, he felt a sharp prick in his back.
 
He lifted his right arm, threw out his elbow and the pain was gone.
 
Lee stood up over the man who was lying on his back halfway out the doorway into the hall now.

He was deciding what to do next when he felt himself sway.
 
Lee grabbed the doorway with his right hand first, and then both hands as he slumped against it.
 
He tried to move his legs to regain his balance, but they wouldn’t obey him.
 
He felt himself lean all the way against the doorway and start falling forward.
 
It was all he could do to shift his weight sideways so he slid down to the floor rather than fall face first.

As he sprawled face down with his left cheek and nose mashed into the linoleum, Lee heard the intruder get to his feet and run down the hallway.
 
Then he heard Megan screaming at the top of her lungs.
 
And he realized that he was having serious trouble breathing.
 
He fought hard to get more into his lungs.
 
But all he could get was a sip of air.
 
Then another.
 
Then a third.
 
Then one final small breath that felt like it would be his last.

* * *

John Average calmed his heart and breathing while he waited for the elevator to take him down to the lobby.
 
He was extremely thankful no one was in the elevator and no one stopped it in the five floors down.
 
When the doors opened, he would walk normally through the lobby, past the automatic doors and out to the street.
 
He would be in his car and moving in four minutes, maybe less.

The elevator stopped.
 
After a couple of seconds, the doors slid open with a perfunctory “ding.”
 
But instead of an abandoned lobby, a security guard stood in front of him.
 
He was hugely overweight and looked both confused and annoyed.

Average guessed he’d been taking a nap in a back office 30 seconds earlier.

“Uh…sir,” said the guard in a deep voice.
 
“There’s something happening upstairs.
 
And…uh…we have to keep people here.
 
Maybe…uh…just for a few minutes.”

He paused with a questioning look on his face.

Average quickly assessed his situation.
 
He felt the underside of the spiked ring on his middle finger with his thumb. He was ready to use it.
 
He thought that if he moved quickly enough, he could hit the guard fast, bounce off him and keep on going.
 

He had taken his first step toward the guard when a second one appeared in front of him beside the first.
 
This one was thin, moved like a whippet and had his gun out.

“Down!
 
Down! Down!
 
On the floor!
 
Now!”
 
he screamed.
 
He was waving the gun wildly at Average and looked as if he might blow his head apart at any moment, intentionally or not.

“Okay…okay…okay,” said Average.
 
“Just take it easy.”
 
He got to his knees with his arms outspread, palms facing forward at head level.
 

“All the way!
 
All the way!
 
Face on the floor!”
 
said the second guard.
 

Average did as he was told.
 
He lay face down, arms outstretched above his head with his palms flat on the lobby carpet.

“Move an inch and I’ll blow you the fuck away,” said the guard, more relaxed now but speaking with enough conviction that Average guessed that he probably would do what he threatened.
 

“He might have a weapon or something, man,” the guard told his companion.
 
“He did something to someone upstairs.
 
The cops are on their way.”

The elevator doors closed, bumped against his thighs, and opened again only to close on him a second time after a long pause.
 
John Average closed his eyes.

“Shit.
 
Shit. Shit. Shit,” he muttered softly to himself.
 
The cop.
 
If he died, that put him in line for death row.
 

He’d already contemplated what he might do if he got caught.
 
He’d snitch.
 
Of course he would.
 
He damn sure wasn’t going to the gas chamber if he had anything to say about it.
 
Maybe…if he were lucky…he’d eventually get out before he was truly an old man.

* * *

Enzo Lee couldn’t open his eyes or make a sound.
 
He was completely aware of everyone around him, what they were saying and what was happening to him.
 
He heard the nurse who reached him first tell everyone – very quickly, thank God – that his heart was pounding like a jack hammer but he wasn’t breathing.
 
He probably was turning blue by that point.

“I’m not dead!” is what he screamed inside his head.
 
“I can hear you.
 
I know everything that is going on.
 
Get some goddamn air in my lungs!”

He felt the device they inserted into his mouth and then could hear and feel the air being pushed into his lungs every few seconds.
 
When they moved him to a gurney, one of his eyelids opened just long enough for him to see a clear tube maybe two feet long reaching from his mouth to a plastic bulb attached to the end.
 
The hand on the bulb belonged to a young nurse.
 
She gave him a quick smile and then his eye closed again.
 
He’d never felt so helpless.
 
Lee prayed that the woman holding his life in her hands wasn’t the type to get bored.