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Our Paranormal Chernobyl Stranger looked down at the stone beast. It had fallen to the floor beside its first victim, the nurse who'd been trapped under the collapsing nurses' station. Still immobile because of her crushed leg, she lay in the rubble, screaming. "Take it easy, lady," Stranger said. "I’ll get you out in a second." He put the base of his foot on the stone creature’s side and pushed him about five feet away. With one eye still on his fallen foe, he then reached down and gently lifted the counter top off of the nurse’s leg. The rest of the room was in chaos. Smoke filled the ceiling. Emergency lights strobed at each exit, and a fire alarms filled the air. The floor was littered with the broken tiles and fluorescent lights that had been torn from the ceiling. Nurses and doctors were peeking out of the rooms. One nurse was crouched over the unconscious colleague knocked out by Crossfire’s arrow. Two hospital security officers rushed into the atrium from the east hallway, and stopped when they saw Stranger. They had no guns, but one of them reached for his radio. From the west, a figure came through the smoke. It was Agent Pender, dressed now in hospital scrubs and slippers, the big PRIMUS rifle held at ready. "PRIMUS Acting Silver Avenger Laura Pender," she shouted to the security guards over the commotion. "He’s with me." He may have been, Pender reflected, but whether he’d listen to her to was another story. "Stranger, grab B and follow me. No time to argue." "Whatever you say, lady," Stranger said. "But I’m not leave this stone demon behind. It almost killed someone." He walked over and picked up the robotic nurse and threw it over his shoulder. He then walked over and grabbed the leg of the stone creature and started dragging it out towards the others. "Fine," Pender said, not really caring at this point. She was too close to a breakthrough to care. "Bring all your friends." Maggie zipped around the corner, passed over the unconscious body of a paramedic sprawled on the floor, and roared through the bay doors. The male robot K stood unmoving beside the ambulance, the Gatling gun pistol in his hand. Against the opposite wall of the bay, Crossfire lay in a growing puddle of blood. She also saw the Goo, the ripped-off antenna, the van, and the unmoving K, and quickly made the necessary associations. "Goo, you’re a genius!" she cried. "Keep them in that van, I’ll be right there!" She ran to Crossfire’s side. The archer was in danger of bleeding to death. Blood spurted from his left femoral artery. Cursing, she ripped a strip from Crossfire’s costume, improvising a quick tourniquet. She squeezed it around his thigh, trying to stench the flow of blood. It would be a very temporary measure, but hopefully real paramedics would be on the way. The young man raised his head from beneath the windshield and peeked out of the news van’s window. "Woody?" said a voice in his headphones. "That thing is gone," Woody replied. "At least I don’t see it any—" Woody heard a weird "splorch" as something landed on the top of the van. "Yo-ou-u," said a voice from above. "Did this to me." Something slimy began to drip down the outside of the window, inches from Woody’s face. Startled, he pulled away. "Yo-ou-u," the slimy drips said. "Took away. Things I can’t even remember you too-oo-ook." Woody scrambled out of the driver’s seat to the center of the van. His heart was racing. Slime was trailing down all of the other windows, quickly covering them. "Fa-a-amily?" the slime asked. "Husband? Chi-i-ildren? Do I have? Do they nee-ee-eed me? Maybe never know." With a Pop! the van slumped to one side. "Tire," the wet voice said from beneath the van. "Squee-ee-eezed it. Like a melon." Woody slid open the panel separating the sections of the van, and moved down the narrow space between the two caskets. He pounded on the pink one, then the blue one. "Come on, dudes! I’m in a Stephen King story here!" He yanked open the weapons locker, and tried to choose from the myriad of PRIMUS weapons. What was that one, a mortar? He wasn’t good at guns. He was just supposed to be technical support, dammit! He saw the slime leak around the edges of the back door. He grabbed a futuristic looking thingamabob from the cabinet and ran toward the front of the van. There was a small gash in the top of the van where the antenna had been ripped away. Some of the slime had begun to push through the gash. Ducking, Woody ran toward the driver’s seat. Maybe he could drive away, even with one flattened tire. The dash window was beginning to buckle as the slime pressed upon it. Spiderwebs crackled across the glass. The window shattered. Bits of slime and safety glass sprayed the driver’s and passenger’s seats. Panicked, Woody spun to a halt. The bits of slime on the seat joined into a mass that advanced toward him. "So-o-o-o-o. What?" the slime asked, closing in on Woody from all sides. "Should I do with yo-ou-u?" "Stop!" the young man shouted, voice quivering. He jerked the muzzle of the gun back and forth, unsure where to aim. "I’ll shoot!" "Whatever. Out of wa-a-ay, small fry," Goo said to Woody. "Or, squish." The skinny young man paled, and gulped theatrically. "Zoinks," he said. He was young, probably not even of drinking age. His shaggy head of hair and sparse goatee gave him a cartoonish look that was vaguely familiar to Goo. Then he stepped aside, the high-tech gun forgotten like a bad movie prop. From the mass at the front of the van, Goo extended a thick tentacle along the floor past Woody, into the van and next to the candy-colored caskets. The tentacle spread out, creating a sticky mass which expanded to press against both of the casket lids and hold them in place. Goo was now spread all over the van, from the back, along the top and sides, through the broken window into the front, past Woody and into the casket area. "Tell friends, stay put," Goo ordered Woody. "Yo-ou-u too." The young man slowly nodded—and then bolted for the back of the van. Goo sighed. As the man reached the middle of the van multiple trails of slime shot through the gash in the roof. The trails struck his body at several points then contracted, pulling him from the floor and dangling him in the air like a snotty marionette. "All done running away?" Goo asked its new puppet. Goo manipulated the man’s head and made it nod up and down on its scrawny neck. The man’s pronounced Adam’s apple wobbled as he emitted another loud gulp. Meanwhile, outside the van, Goo extended a small head toward Maggie. "Hey, Ma-a-aggie," Goo greeted her. The small head smiled. "Got ‘em!" "Great thinking, Goo. Very observant." She looked at the van, the ripped antenna, and K. She fired a blob of EMP spray on K, just in case. One could never be too sure. Then she turned back to Goo. "Can you hold ’em off until we can pick them up?" If memory served, she’d promised to collect on an organ donation… "Ye-e-es," Goo replied. "Got three perps. One, usele-e-ess punk. Two other perps, tra-a-apped in control booths. I’m holding doors. Not going anywhere." "Can someo-o-one help woman?" Goo asked Maggie. "In a-a-ambulance. K tossed her there, ga-a-assed—" Maggie heard the distinctive ping-ping-ping! of a shell ricocheting off metal walls, then a quiet pop! Goo paused. The tiny head frowned. "Ma-a-aggie, can help woman?" Goo asked. "Perp in van just shot me. Gotta shake him like a rag do-o-oll." Maggie nodded, wondering what was up. "I’m on it," she said, headed for the ambulance. "Crossfire!" Pender ran to him; he was clearly in a bad way, and unlike Stranger or Goo, he didn’t have a mutated biology to protect him or speed his recovery. Someone—she guessed it’d been Maggie—had tied a tourniquet around his leg, and it looked secure enough. "You alive?" Through the pain, a voice reached out to Blake. All he could see was the nurse dropping in front of him, a victim of the arrow he’d aimed at the Barbie doll. It kept replaying in his mind, each time cutting away at the end of it in a flash of red and pain. Each time he briefly caught the grinning face of the other robot, before it the cycle started over again. The voice penetrated the replay; yes, he was alive, though a part of him wished he wasn’t. "Yeah," he replied, eyes opening. He wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure where to start. "Damn, Crossfire," Stranger said, shaking his head. "You look like shit." He saw the commotion by the van and walked towards it, still dragging the stone demon and robot behind him. "Stay put," Pender told the archer. She turned toward the ambulance. Maggie was climbing in the back doors. Jonathan wondered how he could just lie there. Woodbridge was out there somewhere and people had been hurt. He tried to prop himself up and his vision swam. The breath caught in his throat at the sudden burst of pain that coursed through him. He looked down his body and saw the pool of red that darkened his already scarlet costume. His leg lay useless, numb and constricted at the tourniquet. Yet his whole body throbbed. He knew there was nothing left for him now but to just stay put, stay out of the way, stay down, as useless as he’d been the night his parents had been killed. What had ever made him think he could be a hero when all he did was hurt those he’d promised to protect? How could he do for them what he couldn’t even do for himself? As she crossed the ambulance bay, Pender glanced out over the parking lot. Q-Ball floated against the night sky with false serenity. And beyond its shadow, Goo still had the news van covered. Literally. "Miss Thorin. What do we—oh." Maggie was crouched over the unconscious form of the tongueless woman. "Well, it seems that we have a female patient under the effect of some sort of soporific gas, and minor contusions plus a cubitus fracture from being tossed around," Maggie said, fairly absently, examining the woman for worse. "She’s much luckier than some of the people inside." "Luck." Pender almost chuckled. Was that what had saved her? "Well, they wanted her, and we have her, so that’s got to count for something. August has B," she continued, glancing back over her shoulder—August was making his way towards them, dragging a downed foe in each hand, "and it looks like K’s out of commission. Who—what—does Goo have in the van?" "Hmm? Oh!" Maggie looked up from her work. "Turns out our friends were using the van either as a control or a repeater station. It makes sense: you wouldn’t want that kind of control signal to degrade. Very sharp of Goo to notice it. He’s holding people inside, maybe even our robot pilots." God, how many of them are there? "We—" Pender began, then stopped when she saw Maggie’s patient stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she began to cough. Then she focused on Maggie, and her face went wide with fear. "My baby! What happened to my baby?" "The baby is inside, ma’am," Laura assured her, "safe and sound. We’d better get you to a doctor; looks like you’ve been knocked around quite a bit." "Bring me to him," she said, her voice clear and determined. "Now." Pender glanced at Maggie, unsure of what to make of this. "Of course." She was so taken aback by the woman’s tone of voice that she didn’t notice it right away. "Your tongue—how—when did you get your tongue back?" "My—?" She looked shocked, then confused. She touched a hand to her chin. "I felt something when he was born… when they gave him to me, still wet and squalling, and his skin touched mine. I felt… clearer." She sat up. "I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to be like everybody else. And he—" She stopped, studied Pender’s face. "But you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? You, more than anyone else." It was something Laura hadn’t stopped to or wanted to think about yet. She’d survived what should’ve been two fatal explosions, but at the time all that had mattered was that she was still around to notice. Now the mechanics of it suddenly took on a little more significance. "Just wait here," she told her, taking a brief moment to consider Crossfire’s condition. "I’ll bring him to you." "No!" She got to her feet, wincing, her left arm crossed over her body to support the other arm. The right elbow, which Maggie had diagnosed as fractured, was swollen and purplish. "I need to see my baby." She looked from Maggie to Pender. "Do you have children? If you did, you’d understand." "I don’t," Maggie said. "But I think I understand." She glanced at Pender, then added, "You can walk, though all those bruises are going to hurt. I’d prefer you’d wait for a doctor to examine you, and maybe an x-ray, but I don’t really think there is going to be anything. Just don’t move that arm, we need to get it splinted as soon as possible." "So," Pender said, as if continuing Maggie’s sentiment, "I’ll be right back with your baby and a doctor, while you stay here with Miss Thorin." She then added, with a trust-me-on-this look to the scientist, "She’ll keep an eye on you." The woman hesitated, studying Maggie’s face, then said, "All right." She sat down on the padded gurney, wincing again. "Please, be careful, Agent Pender." "I agree, Agent Pender," Maggie said. "They might not have been acting alone, and there's still the gang Crossfire encountered to contend with. I'd try to pick up a radio and maybe an agent or two with that doctor." "I'll bring whoever I can get, believe me." With that, the agent ran back into the chaos of the hospital. Back in the van, Goo extended tendrils from here, there and everywhere to yank the gun out of Woody’s hand. The ceramic shell had ricocheted off the floor, caromed off a wall, and buried itself in one of Goo’s tendrils. "Knock that o-o-off!" Goo commanded. "Sorry!" Woody yelled. "I didn’t mean it!" "Loo-oo-ook, small fry," Goo said to Woody. "Doing you fa-a-avor, not letting B and K out. Don’t be shooting me and stu-u-uff." "I said I didn’t mean it!" "Should show some re-e-e-spect, kid. "To me-e-e, you’re an accessory. To murder, kidnapping. A few other crimes, too-oo-oo. "But to the-e-em," Goo indicated the two caskets. "You’re a potential wi-i-itness. "I was them? I’d think, ‘Loo-oo-oose end, tie it up. Bump off kid, one less witness at trial.’ "That’s how criminals thi-i-ink. "Trust me on this." Part of Goo’s surface was draped over Woody’s head, and it could hear the voices coming over the kid’s headphones. "Woody," a male voice growled. "If you say a fucking word, you’re dead. Don’t let that freak fuck with you! Remember NYPD Blue? Always wait for the lawyer!" "I… I want my lawyer," Woody said feebly. "Yeah, yeah," Goo said. A large blob of Goo traveled down from the roof to stare Wood in the face. "Yo-ou-u ask for lawyer, co-o-o-p has to give you a lawyer. "But," the blob said, pulling Woody’s headphones off, then speaking slowly and deliberately. "I. Am. Not A. Cop." Woody looked down at the translucent creature. "Oh… well—no! I mean, yeah. Dude." Goo crinkled the headphones into a small little wad and snapped the cord. "Now, te-e-ell me. E-e-e-verything. Names. Places. Or I tell your friends you told me. Then. I leave you alone. With the-e-em." "I’m not saying anything," Woody said, shaking his head as best he could. Then he raised his voice. "NOT A THING! NADA! ZIP! NIL! NULL SET!" Goo felt the lids of the caskets strain against its tendrils, electric motors whining. Outside, from the top of the van, Goo extended a multi-pronged tentacle toward the approaching Stranger and flailed it wildly. "Stranger?!?" the prongs yelled. "Might need he-e-elp in van. Bad guys stirring!" "I’ve got you covered, Goo," Stranger said with a chuckle as he let go of the stone creature and the robot. His attacker had let him go, and Eli wondered what to do next. If he stood up, would the man simply beat him back down? He’d never dreamed someone could be so strong. And yet he had taken the beating, and was still around to tell of it. He had no real eyes in this shape he had acquired, and yet he could still see what was going on around him. His vision was different, yes, but it still worked. The robot thing lay next to him. It wasn’t moving, and he didn’t know if it was still able to function. Robots! It was like those Saturday morning cartoons he used to watch as a kid. Superheroes and supervillains duking it out for control of mankind. Simply incredible. And now he was one of them? Maybe. He watched as the strongman (whom they’d called Stranger) headed towards a van covered in some sort of tarp. He also kept an eye on the lifeless form next to him, ready to act if it moved or showed signs of recovery. Stranger walked around the van. Goo had immobilized it in a most spectacular manner. His gelatinous form was stretched over the van like a some great ball of phlegm that has been spit over a child’s toy. As Stranger approached the back doors of the van, he noticed they were held closed by this mucus-y Venus flytrap. Yes indeed, Goo had things well in hand. "Anything I should know before I go in?" Stranger asked. "Nothing mu-u-uch," Goo said to Stranger. "Weapons lo-o-ocker, bad guys can’t get there. Other than tha-a-at…" Goo bunched itself up around the back doors of the van. The doors slowly opened. Stranger could see that his phlegm/toy analogy applied to the inside of the van as well as the outside. This was Goo, all over. Goo was holding shut two candy-colored caskets near the back of the van. In the center of the van, a goateed man dangled from sticky trails of Goo. His eyes met Stranger’s. "Yowser," Stranger said. "They’re gonna like you in lock down. I’ll call you ‘half a pack’, ‘cause that’s about all your skinny ass is gonna be worth in trade." He jumped lightly into the van. "Now let’s see what your friends are up to." He reached down to open a casket, and stopped just before he touched it. He wheeled quickly to face the goateed man. "Goo, before I open these guys up I think we should turn off all the power in this van. Can you do it, or should ‘half pack’ here do it for us?" "You can’t do that!" Woody squeaked. "Can’t tru-u-ust ‘half’," Goo explained. "Watches NYPD Blue. Let me see-ee-ee." Goo surveyed the equipment, and developed a nice warm toasty feeling when he imagined short-circuiting the wiring in this thing. It’d be like jacking a Greyhound. The main engine was off, so there had to be a shit load of batteries somewhere, and probably—yes, there it was—a slight rumbling from somewhere below the floorboards, telling Goo that a generator was running. "Generator," Goo observed, pointing downward. It parted itself so that Stranger could approach the generator without stepping on Goo. "Stranger? Want to pull up floorboards and sma-a-ash it? Or flip switch? I got, er, hands full." "Smashing sounds nice," Stranger said as he walked into the opening that Goo had provided. "Watch for spa-a-arks," Goo warned. "WAIT!" Woody screamed. "You can’t turn off the power—you’ll suffocate them!" "I’m sure that they have at least a few minutes of air in there," Stranger said as he knelt down and put his hand on the floor. He could feel the vibrations of the generator under the thin aluminum. He put the tips of his fingers together and pushed them into the metal. He then grabbed hold of the ripped edges and peeled back the floor panel. Everyone could now see the small generator humming away. There were a few cables attached to one end. Stranger reached down and pulled them out. The lights on the caskets and the computer equipment went out. The van became eerily silent. And then, as if from faraway, came the sound of distant banging. "Oh ma-a-a-an…" Woody whined. "Okay, Goo, let them out one at a time," Stranger said, getting ready. "Just give me the word on which one you’re going to release first, and then do it." "La-a-adies first," Goo said, opening the pink casket. Checking her 'patient' over one last time, Maggie flicked the radio on. "Q-Ball, this is Maggie. Looks like we have the situation under control for the time being. Both 'bots are disabled. How are things up there?" "Much calmer, thank you," answered the pilot. "I've been on the line with Detective Hammersmith, who will be here any minute, and I also put in a call to PRIMUS. The containment team should be able to lock down the robots and the creature that Stranger was dragging around. You'll have to fill me in on what happened down there when you get the chance, Ms. Thorin." "Well, there isn’t much that I’ve seen that you haven’t, Q-Ball," Maggie said. "We heard fighting noises, rushed in, and came face to face with the B-Bot. We managed to disable it, although there was the intervention of a shapeshifting, mineral-structured metahuman… Hmm, I should follow up on that… anyway, we disabled B and I rushed out, you probably saw the rest." She decided to look for the fossil as soon as Pender was back. "Yes I did. I’ve got an eye on B and the new metahuman—Stranger dropped them in front of the news van before going in. Hammersmith’s entering the parking lot, by the way. I’ll tell him that you’re in the ambulance." "Great. I get the feeling a lot went on that I don’t know about yet. As soon as he gets there we’ll get to the bottom of it all." "Excuse me," the woman said. "What happened to the… man—the man who hurt me?" "The man who hurt you?" Maggie asked. "Who do you mean?" "Franklin. The man who cut me, who changed into… the rocks. Is he dead?" Her voice was tight with emotion. "Franklin. The man who cut me, who changed into… the rocks. Is he dead?" Her voice was tight with emotion. "He's in PRIMUS custody, ma'am," said Maggie. "Under containment. You don't need to worry about him." The woman shook her head. "He'll come for me. And the child." "If he escapes, we'll know about it," Maggie soothed. "And we'll be ready for him. We got him twice, we can do it again." The woman started to say something, then closed her mouth. "You know about him?" Maggie asked. "Anything you can tell us might be useful if we have to fight him again." "He's insane. He thinks he loves me. Then he… changed, and when he saw me, today, suddenly pregnant…." She shook her head. "He thinks he's the father. That's impossible, but he doesn't care. He'll come for us both." "Maggie," Q-Ball said, breaking in over the radio. "Detective Hammersmith is here. Also, F.M. Buck and the MCT unit will be here any minute. If you need me, call me on this frequency. I'll be… under cover." "Roger that, Q-Ball," Maggie responded. "I think Goo and Stranger have the situation under control over there." A balding, thick-set man looked up at Goo and Stranger, a day's growth of beard on his heavy jowls. His headset and mic lay on his chest. He was naked except for a white brassier, orange Power Puff Girl underwear, and beige, control-top panty hose. He was sweating profusely, and the air inside the casket had turned ripe. "You'll never get away with this," he said. "My," said Goo. "Out you go, fatty," Stranger said, laughing. He reached in and pulled the man out of the casket by his panty hose. They ripped away from his legs, and the man fell to the floor. "Now let's get the other one out as well," Stranger said. "Doo-oo-oor number two!" Goo announced as it opened the next casket. The woman inside the blue casket was fully dressed, at least. She wore a black tuxedo jacket over a lime-green ruffled shirt, black pants with a satin stripe down the side, and white spats. In her late fifties or early sixties, Stranger guessed. Her hair was white and fluffy and she was carrying an extra fifty pounds. She looked like Barbara Bush subbing for Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. Arms stiff at her sides, she stared up at Stranger and the various gooe-y tendrils in glassey-eyed shock. The woman inside the blue casket was fully dressed, at least. She wore a black tuxedo jacket over a lime-green ruffled shirt, black pants with a satin stripe down the side, and white spats. In her late fifties or early sixties, Stranger guessed. Her hair was white and fluffy and she was carrying an extra fifty pounds. She looked like Barbara Bush subbing for Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. Arms stiff at her sides, she stared up at Stranger and the various gooe-y tendrils in glassy-eyed shock. "Careful you don’t break a hip, grandma." He set her down, and she tried to smooth the front of her crumpled jacket. "This is an expensive jacket, little mister." The man in the bra and orange underwear picked himself up from the floor. He was still sweating. "Our lawyer is on his way, and the police will be here any second." He bent slightly to straighten his torn hose. "I suggest you disappear, before the police take you away, Mr. August, and PRIMUS sends your protoplasmic friend here to their R&D lab." Goo thought about the name. Mr. August. Did it ring any bells? Had anyone told Goo about a Mr. August. Nope, Goo concluded. Nobody tells Goo anything. "Don’t wo-o-orry about me, Dearie," Goo said to the sweaty man. "PRI-I-IMUS? Looking forward to seeing PRI-I-IMUS. Again." Stranger nodded to part of Goo doing the talking. "Goo, get the doors. Looks like we got ourselves a tough guy." Goo closed the back doors of the van. Then, tugging on the gooey strings, it spun the goateed man around so he was facing away from the others. "So here’s the scoop," Stranger said matter-of-factly. "You know who I am and what you did to me. You probably also know that I disabled the pellets in my body early on in the process of whatever the hell they were supposed to do. What we both don’t know is if the process is still active. But one thing’s for mother-fucking sure, we’re gonna find out right now." Stranger reached down and tore the edge off the lip of metal that he had ripped from the floor of the truck. He stepped towards the woman. "Let’s start with you. You look like you have a healthy immune system. Let’s see if your body can fight off the effects of your chemical crap as well my body did." He put his hand over the woman’s head. "Let me know if you want to change the conversation." He ran the jagged metal across his palm, but the skin remained unblemished. "This may take a minute or two," he said, and pushed harder. "You’re crazy!" the woman said, flinching away from him. "Margaret!" the man snapped. "Keep your eyes shut and your mouth closed. August, if you are contagious, you’ll probably kill her. Not to mention, PRIMUS will lock you up with Man-Goo, here. You’ll be a lab rat." He drew himself up to his full height. "But—if you let us go, I can help you. I can tell you how to cure yourself, and the goo-thing." A stalactite of Goo dropped from the ceiling and engulfed Stranger's hand. Stranger still hadn't drawn any blood from his tough skin. "Let the man spe-ea-ak," Goo said to Stranger. Then, turning to the man, Goo said, "Oka-a-ay. We're listening." "First," the man said, adjusting his bra strap. "Let Woody and Margaret go." "No-o-o," Goo said. "Don't trust you. Not convinced you can do it. "So nobody goes anywhere. Until I beli-ie-eve you. "Start ta-a-alking." "Oh well," the man answered, sounding exhausted. "Worth a try, I guess. I don't believe you'd actually let us go, no matter what I told you. I'll wait for my lawyer." "Yeah, you're right," Stranger said, throwing his hands into the air. "We wouldn't have let you go. But you know what the funny thing is?" he said in a high giggly voice. Stranger suddenly kneed the man in the groin, and he made a sound like potato being ejected from a tailpipe. He fell to his knees, and vomited on Stranger's boots. "It's not the cops you have to worry about." As soon as Laura turned her attention to entering the hospital, she could sense the child inside. She could feel him somehow, a quavering presence like light under water. He was being moved upstairs. How she was aware of this was an unsettling mystery, but too convenient to ignore. The infant had healed her wounds, protected her from harm, and regenerated his mother's tongue, all of which was nothing short of amazing, but he'd also apparently given them both something else. What exactly that was, and whether or not Crossfire would experience it as well, was another matter. The two hospital security guards Pender had seen earlier met her just inside the hospital doors. The white one, the one whose nameplate said "Lenny," put out his hand. "You're the PRIMUS one. What the hell is going on here?" "I need to get upstairs, now," she answered. "Where are the stairs?" "Uh, over there." The other guard, a black man, nodded back and to his left. His nameplate said "Carl." "You," she barked, pointing to Lenny. "Get a doctor and get out to the ambulance bay." "Aw, nuts!" Lenny said, then turned and jogged back down the hallway. "You, follow me," Pender ordered Carl. "I'm looking for a baby." Pender jogged down the hallway, the guard following. She cut right at the intersection, and went past the elevators to the stairwell. "Uh, why are you looking for a baby?" Carl said. "Long story. No time." She bounded up the stairs and paused in the open doorway to the second story, eyes on the ground before her. Abruptly, her head snapped up and to the left. "This way." They entered the neo-natal unit. Pender went past the nurse's station, making a beeline for the big room on the right. There. It was in there. A large room, with several sinks, crèches with heating lights, and a battery of medical equipment. Four female nurses in the room, and two of them were holding infants. The woman at her right held a squalling, red-faced newborn, wrapped in white blankets; the nurse by the largest sink held another squalling, red-faced child in her latex-gloved hands, washing it gently with a white cloth. All babies looked alike to Pender. If she had to pick it out of a line up, she couldn't be sure. But she wasn't depending on looks. Her attention focused on the infant being washed. The nearest nurse, a trim woman with large spectacles and short gray hair, looked first at the security guard, then to Laura. Her eyes widened when she noticed the very large gun slung over Pender's shoulder. "What's going on here?" the nurse said. "No need to be alarmed, ma'am," the heavily-armed agent assured her. "PRIMUS Acting Silver Avenger Laura Pender. I have that baby's mother downstairs," she continued, pointing him out, "and I have to bring him to her, now. I don't have time to explain, but if you'd accompany me to Emergency, with the baby, I'd greatly appreciate it." "That baby isn't going anywhere," the nurse said, shocked. She turned to the security guard. "Carl, do you know what's going on?" "Uh, not really," Carl said. "Agent Lender here just—" "It's okay, Mavis," a woman said from behind them. It was the heavy-set nurse who'd been attending to Laura in the ER. "She saved the baby's life." She entered the room, and looked Pender over. "You look better. Is the mother all right then? And is the fighting over?" "Yes, and the mother would like to see her son," Pender answered. "However, she's in no condition to walk right now. Would either you or Mavis here bring the baby and follow me, please? Immediately?" "If he wasn't so healthy this would be out of the question," Mavis said. "I'll take him." "Thanks, Mavis." Pender wasn't being entirely insincere, but it galled her that a direct order from an armed PRIMUS Silver Avenger during a crisis situation wasn't enough for dear Mavis. The nurse at the sink dried and diapered the infant, then dressed him in a sleeper that covered his hands and feet. Mavis took him carefully into her arms. He was quiet now, eyes half closed, and ready to fall asleep any second. "Now," she said, following Pender and Carl out of the room, "where are we going, and please explain why the child had to leave the nursery now. If the mother can't walk, we can send a wheelchair." "Mavis, as I said, we don't have time right now. You are severely out of the loop on this, so you're just going to have to trust me. Later we'll catch up over a cup of tea and a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting, but until then, we're dealing with an emergency and I'm running the show. Right, Carl?" "Uh, yeah," he agreed, hustling along behind her. The nurse wasn't satisfied. "But I don't—" "Mavis," Pender said, stopping in her tracks and turning to face her, "if you have anymore sentences that begin with the word 'But,' save them until this is over. Clear? Elevator, please." In the hallway, a tired-looking man sat stooped in a plastic chair; he looked up at them nervously as the group approached. Across from him, a young woman in a navy skirt and jacket watched as well, eyes wide. Mavis stopped by the elevator door. As they waited, the woman in blue approached. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her face had no makeup. A cross hung on a gold chain from around her neck. "Nurse," she said nodding to Mavis. Then to Pender, she said, "Ma'am, is this your child?" "Sorry, no time for a donation," she answered. The elevator was still on the ground floor. "Mavis, Carl-we're taking the stairs." "I am not taking this infant down a flight of stairs!" Mavis objected. "Then—" Pender began, then sighed. "Fine. We'll wait." "I am Sister Purezza," the young woman said in a light Italian accent. She bowed her head slightly. "I take it then that l'infantile is not your own." "Not that it's any of your business, but no. I'm taking him to his mother. Now if you'll excuse me, I don't particularly feel like having a conversation at the moment." In other words, get lost, she added mentally. "No offense." "None taken." She smiled shyly, and removed the cross from her neck. "I don't have much, but I would like to pay my respects." She held out an upturned hand to Mavis, the necklace in her palm. "Please, would you give this to the mother? It is for the child. Tell her to go with God." "Stop," Pender ordered Mavis, who was already reaching out for it. "Carl, take the cross. Sister, thanks for your concern." Carl looked at Pender, confused, but held out his hand. Sister Purezza put the cross in his hand and patted his forearm. "For the mother and child," she said. "Thank you." "Uh, sure," Carl said. The elevator chimed and the door slid open. Pender stepped into the carriage and held the door open for Mavis. "Carl, come on." Carl stepped into the elevator, and waved at the woman in the blue suit as the doors slid closed. "For a nun, she was pretty hot," he said absently. |