John asked, “Where’s David’s office located anyway?”
Marta got out her iPhone again. She brought up the map of the hospital.
“It looks like he’s on the third floor, on the south side.”
“How do we know he’s not in surgery?”
“We don’t.”
“Can I see the phone for a sec?”
Marta handed him the iPhone.
“So where are we going to be,” he asked, staring down at the screen, “just loitering across the street, waiting for these people to kill him?”
Neither Eli nor Marta offered up any reply. Ashley wasn’t surprised. She knew they weren’t bad people, not like the people now hunting them, but they weren’t quite good people, either. Hadn’t Eli pretty much admitted to killing years ago? Even if it had been in self-defense, even if those people had been bad, taking a life was still taking a life. How did you come back from something like that?
Handing the phone back to Marta, John said, “We really don’t have a plan here, do we?”
Eli didn’t speak for a couple of long seconds. Finally he sighed. “Yes, we have a plan.”
“And what is it?”
“To kill these bastards before they kill us.”
• • •
They ended up in a parking garage three blocks away from the hospital. Eli parked in a corner on the fourth level. He backed the Buick into the empty space so the trunk was pointed toward the cinderblock wall. They got out and stretched and Eli opened the trunk and started rummaging through the bags.
“Have you ever fired a gun?” Eli asked John.
“Once, a long time ago. I was in Europe and we were drunk and this guy had a pistol, one of those things the Nazis used. He was vague on where he’d gotten it from, but he let me shoot it.”
“Did you hit the target?”
“To be honest, I don’t remember there being a target.”
Eli dug out a silver handgun, started to hand it to John, but hesitated. “You’ve seen movies and TV with guns, right?”
“I’m an American, aren’t I?”
“While the movies and TV are exaggerated, the same basic principles apply. This button here ejects the magazine. You slap it back in like this. This is the safety. If you want to shoot anything, make sure it’s thumbed off. Then all you do is point and shoot.”
John took the gun from Eli, staring down at it warily. “Easiest thing in the world, huh?”
Eli handed Marta another handgun, along with two spare magazines. He pulled out a third gun, hesitated again, then turned to Ashley.
“No,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never shot one before,” she said quickly. “But … I’ll take it if I need to.”
“It’s probably best you do.”
She nodded, knowing it was true and hating that this was now her reality.
Eli placed the gun in her hand and it wasn’t nearly as heavy as she had thought it would be. It was almost too light, like a toy, and the idea that this was a weapon that could take life caused a sour rumbling deep in the pit of her stomach.
“This is like Christmas morning,” John said. “What else did Santa bring us?”
Eli didn’t answer his son. He opened the other bag and pulled out several thick pieces of clothing that at first didn’t make sense to Ashley.
“You know what these are?” Eli asked John, tossing him one of the pieces of clothing.
“Bulletproof vests.”
“Yes, but even though they’re called bulletproof vests, it doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll keep you alive if someone shoots you.”
John started pulling the vest on over his head. “How comforting.” He tightened the Velcro straps on the sides and said, “You know what I just realized?”
“What?”
“You’ve given more stuff today than you ever have before.”
Eli grunted. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
• • •
Once they were set, John asked, “Now what?”
“Now we get back in the car and move to another location.”
“What about a bathroom break?”
“John, don’t start.”
“I’m serious. You want us to be in the heat of battle and all I can think about is not shitting myself?”
Eli’s lips became a tight line. He exhaled loudly through his nose and said, “Fine. We passed a McDonald’s two blocks back. You remember it?”
“I do.”
“Be back in ten minutes.”
“Fingers crossed they have enough toilet paper.”
John started away, toward the stairs leading down to the first level.
Ashley waited until he was halfway there before she said, “Um …”
Both Eli and Marta looked at her.
“I could actually use the restroom, too,” she said, then immediately looked away, embarrassed.
Eli sighed again. “Fine, but stick close to John. And remember, keep your head down in case of traffic cams.”
She headed toward the stairs just as John disappeared around the corner. She forced herself not to look back to see whether Eli and Marta were watching her. She tried to hurry in a calm sort of way, weaving between the parked cars, the gun in her jacket pocket digging into her side. Then she turned the corner and there stood John, waiting for her.
“Ready?” he whispered.
thirty-nine
Yesterday was all about bad luck. Today, so far at least, good luck seems to be on our side. At least in terms of Eli letting us go to McDonald’s on our own. He expects us to be back in ten minutes. It’s not quite a reasonable window, all things considering. But it doesn’t matter. When Ashley and I hit the street, we don’t head toward the McDonald’s. Instead we head in the other direction, walking fast.
Ashley keeps pace beside me. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
I try not to laugh. “Are you kidding me? I’m making all this up as I go along.”
We reach the end of the block and I have that strange feeling you get when someone’s watching you. I glance back, and while the sidewalk is pretty busy, I can’t spot anybody watching us.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Let’s move.”
We turn the corner and keep going, nearly jogging.
Ashley says, “The chances of this working are pretty minimal.”
“Try not to think about it.”
“At this point it’s all I can think about.”
She’s right, of course. This plan is barely even a plan. If anything it’s just an idea. Not even an idea-a kernel of an idea. But hey, it sounded good at the time. Now that we’re actually in motion, though, reality has begun to set in.
“Shouldn’t we be headed toward the hospital?”
I shake my head. “I used the map feature on Marta’s phone to look up nursing homes near the hospital.”
“Why nursing homes?”
“This courier I knew used to drive ambulances. Said he made pickups and drop-offs at nursing homes, taking the old folks to the hospital for appointments. He hated it.”
We cross the street and turn the next corner and there it is, the Medford Retirement Community. It’s an officious name for something that’s nothing more than a convalescent home. Six stories tall, red drab brick, it’s a place that exudes death.
“Okay,” Ashley says, catching her breath. “Now what?”
“Let’s head around back.”
• • •
Luck continues to be on our side. The back of the Medford Retirement Community has a rear entrance with a ramp designed for ambulances and delivery trucks. Right now an ambulance is waiting by the doors.
It’s not one of the big boxes like you normally see. This one is a van, painted red and white, the word EMERGENCY printed loudly on both sides.
Ashley and I wait near the corner. We keep looking up and down the block, like that’s going to help us.
She whispers, “What are we waiting for?”
“I just realized something.
“What’s that?”