The Harbinger Break (37 page)

Chapter 19

   The first thing Summers heard was beeping, periodic at first as time shuffled to find rhythm, but soon it steadied to a heartbeat's rate. Muffled voices entered one ear and left unrecognized through the other, and he felt dull pain in his left arm.

  
Summers breathed in, and the muffled voices increased in frequency. In his mind he saw Penelope gurgle blood, and flash after flash of recent events flooded back to him. He'd been shot, he was alive. He must be in the hospital.

  
He opened his eyes. Two fuzzy women stood over him. Twins, but standing too close to each other, overlapping each other, and both looked like Paige. Their forms closed in on one another, and the twin ghosts of Paige turned into one solid Paige, who stared down at him, eyes moist and tired.

  
"Chris."

  
He noted the softness in which she spoke. He attempted a reply, but his voice came out cracked and broken. "W'sup?"

  
She fell on top of him, and he moaned at the sharp pain in his shoulder. She apologized and stood, and as she did so he recognized tears.

  
"You were shot," Paige said, wiping her eyes. "So much for being safe, Chris.'

  
He tried sitting up, but a sharp pain raced across his chest from his left shoulder. He looked, and saw his left arm restrained in a cast. Using his right arm he pushed himself up. He grinned, fuzzy from painkillers. "M'bad."

  
Paige handed him a cup of water. "So Penelope is dead," she said.

  
Summers drank deeply, then handed back the cup. He nodded.

  
She looked at him, her eyes concerned and piercing. She looked as if she had a million things to say. Finally, she spoke. "What happened?"

  
He cleared his throat. "Tried to stop me. We fought. I won. He pulled a gun. Shot me. I shot back."

  
"Why?"

  
"Shane got him. Persuaded." Summers grunted throatily and shook his head. "Should've seen it coming," he continued.

  
She nodded sympathetically. "Well at least you're okay."

  
He motioned out of the room with his head. "Cops?"

  
"None actually. Barnes called them off, said you were undercover."

  
"Why?"

  
She paused for a moment. "Did you know Harrison Alcove was in town?"

  
Summers breath caught in his throat. "Oh no. What'd he do?"

  
Paige shook her head. "It's not what." She sighed. "He's dead, Chris. Murdered. Some mutilated lunatic apparently had it out for Shane. Alcove was means to an end."

  
"Why'd you ask if I knew he was in town?"

  
"He had papers on him. Something to do with you. Barnes wouldn't tell me what the papers revealed, just told me to get down here and tell you he'll take care of everything. He said he wants the full story from you, in person, back at the office when you're better." Paige grinned. "He wants you back, Chris."

  
Summers shook his head. "What about Shane–did the guy get him?"

  
"No, he was stopped by Sam Higgins."

  
"How do you know he was gunning for Shane?"

  
Paige paused before responding. "There was one other found dead by the same MO. Claire Waltz."

  
Summers blinked. What a shame–if she had just come clean, maybe he could've helped.

  
"Never did find out why she was in town," he said. "So what happened exactly?"

  
Paige locked eyes with him, then turned on the television.

  
He watched a woman yelling into a microphone, standing outside of Chibiney Hall.

  
"–all points bulletin issued for Pat Shane, alleged murderer, using alias John Higgins as Ron Howard's campaign manager, missing along with the congressional candidate after prior night's fiasco. Still no word of possible whereabouts. Back to you, Pete."

  
The screen cut to a studio with two attractive anchors sitting at a desk looking grim.

  
"Thanks Janet," the man said, shuffling papers on the desk. "If anyone has any information that may assist officers in the rescue of Ron Howard, please call the number at the bottom of your screen. Again, here is the footage from last night: Younger and more sensitive viewers may be disturbed by the following."

  
The screen cut to the debate. It was dark and blurry, but Summer could see clearly instantaneous gunfire, Sam Higgins collapse, and the guards run on stage to escort everyone off.

  
"Five confirmed dead. One Sam Higgins, under the alias Theron Thurston, one Lee White, although his connection is unclear at this time. Both men were killed on scene. Nearby, FBE agent Harrison Alcove was found murdered, MO blunt-force trauma. At an inn with a strong Purgist party connection, one Claire Waltz was found murdered, same MO as the agent. And last of all, one as of yet unidentified male in his early thirties, found shot at the same inn. Again, if anyone has any information on the whereabouts or location of Pat or Patches Shane and/or Ron Howard, please do not hesitate to call the number at the bottom of your screen."

  
Paige turned off the television. Summers looked at her.

  
"What do we know?" he asked.

  
She sighed. "Not much more than that. Last place the guards saw Shane and Howard was at the motel where they dropped them off. Nobody saw them leave. This morning the room was found empty."

  
Summers closed his eyes. Shane was missing, and with him was the congressional candidate. But where could they be?

  
He thought back to his research on Shane. He knew the man's habits better than anyone, and if anyone could find Shane, it'd be him.

  
He ran through his data. After a moment it suddenly struck him. He swung his feet urgently over the bed but felt a pull on his arm. He looked down to find he was attached to a peripheral IV line.

  
Turning to the IV bag, he closed the nozzle of the line and unplugged it, asking simultaneously, "How much time has passed?"

  
Paige looked at his arm, then gave him a curious glance. "Why? You aren't going after them, are you?"

  
"I have to, Paige. I know where he is. I need your keys."

  
Summers stepped off the bed, wobbled then steadied himself.

  
"Chris, you aren't okay to drive!"

  
"There's no time Paige! Where's my gun?" He looked down. "Where are my pants?"

  
She stifled a laugh and pointed. "Your pants are over there, hot shot. Your gun's in my car."

  
He ran over, grabbed his pants from the back of the chair and pulled them on. Then he slipped on his shoes. He wobbled as he did so, and had to use the back of the chair to steady himself. Paige was right–he wasn't okay to drive. It was the painkillers–he had to negate them.

  
He shuffled out of the room. A nurse approached from the other end of the hallway, and he continued towards her.

  
"Can I help you?" the nurse asked.

  
He continued towards her and bumped into her. As he did so, he unclipped her ID badge and key from the waist of her pants.

  
"Sorry. Bathroom," he said.

  
"You know there's a bathroom in your room."

  
He shrugged. Paige gave him a curious, somewhat angry look, then approached the nurse and started a meaningless conversation.

  
Summers turned the corner and entered the nurses’ station, finding it empty. In the corner of the room was a large glass drug case. He took the nurse's ID and scanned it in the machine's computer. When prompted, he typed in Narcan, followed by the dose, eight milligrams. He then took the nurse's key, unlocked the glass door, and withdrew a small vial.

  
He scrambled through the drawers, and finally found two syringes–one empty, and one filled with saline.

  
Taking the empty syringe, he stuck the needle through the rubber top of the vial, and filled it with almost eight milligrams of Narcan.

  
Then he poked the needle into his IV, and injected two milligrams slowly, flushing it with saline afterwards. He shook his head and wobbled, but there was no time to delay.

  
He put the cap back on the syringe now filled with Narcan, grabbed three extra syringes of saline, and left the nurses station. About a minute had passed since he'd taken the nurse's badge and key.

  
When he reentered the hallway he saw Paige still talking with the nurse. The nurse had her back to him. He placed the ID on the floor, then got Paige's attention.

  
She excused herself, and they reentered his room.

  
"What'd you do?" she asked once inside, somewhat angrily.

  
"I took Narcan. It counteracts the effects of painkillers. I'm good to drive now. We have to get moving."

  
Paige looked out the window of their door. "The nurse is still there," she said.

  
"As soon as she leaves, we bail."

  
They watched the nurse bend down, pick up her ID, then walk away. They waited a couple more seconds, then the pair made their way from the room.

   The two of them left the hospital, Summers still in his gown and Paige protesting that he was still under the effects of the painkiller. He reassured her that the Narcan had taken effect, and that he was fine.

  
After a moment they found her car. He hopped into the drivers seat, she the passenger, and he sparked the ignition.

  
"Paige, I need a favor," he said as they sat in the parking lot.

  
She looked at him. "Oh God. What?"

  
He withdrew the syringe with Narcan and another with saline from his pocket. "I need you to stick me."

  
She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  
"Paige," he said. "Please."

  
She sighed and took the syringes from his hand. He held out his arm.

  
"Thank you," he said. "Only inject two of those black lines. Do it as slow as possible, and afterwards you need to push the saline, slowly."

  
Grumbling, she aligned the needle.

  
"You're lucky I love you," she said.

  
She injected the Narcan, and he couldn't tell if it was the effect of the drug or the bomb she'd just dropped that caused his head to spin.

  
"I love you too," he said as he grinned.

   Exactly an hour and ten minutes later, Summers and Paige screeched to a stop in front of a condemned apartment complex. Rumors of hauntings at the building had spread for years, but Summers knew those rumors spread because of Shane. Two deaths had occurred on site, both ruled accidents, but Summers knew better.

  
"Where are we?" Paige asked.

  
"Shane's hideout. I've been here once and almost died. This is where he hid after he escaped from GenDec, and this is likely where his fear of aliens manifested. It's entirely booby-trapped."

  
They exited the car and looked across the parking lot at one other car.

  
"It has Georgia plates," Paige said. "Shane and Ron just drove here from Savannah."

  
Summers nodded. There was no question. Pat Shane and Ron Howard were here. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

  
There was an opening in the fence on the east side of the building, out of view from the street, and Summers motioned to Paige to follow him quietly.

  
He lifted a gap in the chain link fence, and allowed Paige to crawl through first. He followed, and let the fence fall quietly behind him.

  
On the side of the decrepit building there was a slanted wooden door on the ground that led to the basement. He pulled it open quietly, and allowed Paige through first.

  
"Wait," he said once they were both through the door, and pulled out a flashlight, holding it in his injured arm.

  
He searched the floor with the narrow beam. They were at the top of a set of stairs. Thick wisps of dust floated in the light, and Paige covered her mouth with her shirt.