Chapter 5 - The Infiltration of the Ward
The first shot was completely silent, a sharp, metallic cough that sent a chunk of white plaster flying from the wall just three inches above Caleb’s head.
Before the shooter could correct his aim, Caleb erupted from the hospital bed.
Despite the fourteen-gauge needle still sticking out of his chest and the IV line tearing free from his vein in a spray of bright crimson, the six-foot-two SEAL moved with the explosive velocity of a predator. He caught the first shooter by the wrist, twisting the weapon upward while his right elbow drove down into the man’s collarbone with a sickening, wet crack.
Lily didn't scream. Her tactical training didn't allow for panic.
She grabbed the heavy, stainless steel IV pole beside the bed, swinging it in a wide, horizontal arc like a combat staff. The solid metal pole caught the second attacker across the side of his knee, the joint collapsing inward with a loud pop as the man fell to the floor, his silenced pistol skittering across the linoleum.
"Get behind the bed!" Caleb signed with a single, frantic gesture of his left hand as he engaged the third shooter in a brutal, hand-to-hand struggle near the doorway.
The third attacker was younger, stronger, his movements fast and precise. He managed to drive a combat knife upward, the blade slicing through the shoulder of Caleb’s hospital gown, leaving a deep, bleeding gash across his deltoid muscle. Caleb didn't even flinch. He used the momentum of the strike to wrap his arm around the man's neck, executing a flawless, low-angle hip throw that sent the intruder crashing into the heavy electronic cardiac monitor.
The monitor shattered, sparks flying into the air as the room was plunged into a chaotic, strobing darkness.
"Lily, the laundry chute!" a voice shouted from the hallway.
It wasn't Vance. It was Marcus, the young nurse who had been gray-faced with fear an hour ago. He stood in the corridor, holding a heavy iron oxygen wrench in one hand and a set of keys in the other. He had a deep cut over his eye, his blue scrubs torn, but his stance was wide and steady.
"They’ve blocked the elevators, Dr. Jenkins—I mean, Nurse Parker!" Marcus yelled, his confusion over her identity vanishing under the sheer adrenaline of the moment. "The whole west wing is locked down from the central terminal! They’re using Concincaid’s access codes!"
"Where is Director Vance?" Lily shouted, pulling Caleb toward the door, her hand pressing a clean sterile pad against his bleeding shoulder.
"They took him down in the basement!" Marcus said, leading them down the darkened hallway toward the service alcove. "There are at least six more of them coming up from the main lobby. They have the local police frequencies jammed!"
The service alcove was tight, smelling of industrial detergent and wet cotton. The large, square aluminum door of the main laundry chute sat in the wall, its manual latch locked with a heavy padlock.
Marcus rammed the iron oxygen wrench into the padlock, using his entire football-player leverage to snap the brass shackle. The door swung open, revealing a dark, vertical shaft that dropped four stories into the hospital's central processing facility.
"Go!" Marcus said, his eyes scanning the corridor behind them where the sound of running boots was getting closer. "I'll hold the door line!"
"Marcus, you're a civilian," Lily said, grabbing his arm. "They will kill you."
"I'm an ER nurse, Parker," Marcus said, a sudden, fierce grin breaking through the blood on his face. "We don't leave our patients. Now slide!"
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Lily turned to Caleb, her hands moving in the dark. Feet first. Protect your chest.
Caleb nodded once, his face completely calm. He climbed into the narrow aluminum chute, his large frame fitting tight against the metal, and disappeared into the black abyss without a single sound. Lily followed immediately, her scrubs rustling against the cold walls as gravity pulled her down into the belly of the facility.
