David Golemon - Ripper

“Okay, step one complete.” Jason twisted the knob and pulled the door open, once threatening to continue on with the momentum of the heavy closet door but stopping and arresting his movement with a fancy balancing act. Once straight again he looked into the closet. He immediately realized he was in trouble as he didn’t know how to cover his body with the ten wire hangers that hung there. “Houston, we have a problem.” Jason remembered that his clothes were probably somewhere in Laredo, Texas. He closed his eyes to think, even though he knew for a naval aviator that usually meant trouble. So before he could do some damage to his brain he slowly walked to the door and opened it a crack.

As he scanned the darkened and half-lit hallway he spied the nurses’ station where he saw the tops of two heads as they sat working on the reports. A candy striper came around the corner and spoke to the nurses there for a moment and then turned away and continued her rounds. Jason managed to take a step out of the room and into the hallway. His eyes widened when he saw a rack of clothes still in their plastic wrap from the dry cleaners. With his feet freezing and his coordination returning, he made it to the rack and quietly started going through the hanging clothes, hoping beyond hope for a doctor’s smock, surgical clothing, or anything he could find to cover his nakedness. He cursed when he realized as he moved the plastic-covered garments aside that he was looking at nothing but nurse’s uniforms and candy striper’s dresses. He rolled his eyes and wanted to scream in frustration, that is, until he felt the cold draft rushing up his spine from his open hospital gown. Shaking his head, he removed the white nurse’s uniform from the rack. He realized that this must be the only hospital in the country that made nurses wear skirts instead of pants or surgical greens.

“Las Vegas,” he said under his breath as he moved back into his room to change and grab his wallet.

It took U.S. Navy Lieutenant J.G. (Junior Grade) Jason Ryan nearly an hour to wind his way past the nurses and another forty minutes to travel the stairs from the third floor to the first. The trip hadn’t been all that unlucky as he did manage to at least snag some paper shoe covers. Now he had his feet somewhat covered and the color did match the white of his skirt and the blouse with the small red cross on the breast. He also had a surgical cap on his head and knew he must look the sight as he stepped from the shadows of the hospital emergency room.

Another fifteen minutes passed as he waited for his cab to take him to the Gold City Pawn Shop where he would undoubtedly find the Security Department running some kind of a drill that Colonel Collins was fond of designing. As he gave the cab driver the address he saw the man looking into his rearview mirror every five minutes. His eyes roamed over the nurse’s face. Ryan realized that although he thought he was a passable nurse, he forgot that he hadn’t shaved in three days.

“These long shifts are killing me,” Ryan quipped and continued to stare at the cabbie’s eyes until he looked away.

The man with the dark hair and arrogant aviator’s walk, who guessed he looked at least decent in his nurse’s outfit, was in for a shock when he pulled up to a closed and locked pawn shop.

As Dr. Denise Gilliam waited in front of the elevator to take them to level thirty-four, she felt the Frenchman’s eyes on her. She looked from the elevator to the airman who watched Henri and finally at Farbeaux.

“What?” she said louder than she intended.

“Hear that?” Farbeaux asked.

“I don’t hear anything. The gunfire has stopped.”

“That’s not the only thing that has stopped dear doctor.”

Denise looked around as the overhead fluorescent lighting flickered. Then she realized what the Frenchman was referring to.

“What’s he talking about?” the airman asked.

“The bioalarms have stopped,” Gilliam said as she looked up and down the small clinic, not liking the empty feeling of it for the first time since she joined the Group.

“Not only that,” Henri said as he too glanced around, jingling his cuffed hands as he did, “that sexy computer you people rely on so much seems to be on her lunch break.”

“Jesus, that isn’t right,” the airman said as he moved to the phone at the small nurse’s station to try to reach someone again. As he clicked the disconnect button several times, he knew they were in trouble. No radio, no phones, and worst of all, no Europa to tell them what to do.

“Where’s that damn elevator?” Denise said as she placed her hand on the scanning screen to see if Europa would react.

That was when the lights went out.

“I hope this is budget cuts,” Farbeaux said as his senses started their small dance inside of his body.

“Shit,” Denise said as she wheeled the bed Henri was restrained to back around and away from the elevator. At that moment the dead circuit tripped the battery-operated lighting in the distant corners of the clinic. “This isn’t right. The clinic and other facilities are on an emergency line. We have a separate backup generator. Why isn’t it kicking on?”

“Because Europa isn’t there to tell it to,” the airman said as she returned.

“Uh, may I suggest the stairs?” Henri said as he once more jingled the cuffs on both hands.

The pounding made all three go rigid. The noise came from several directions at once, the closed elevator doors, the doorway leading to the stairwell, and even more strange, from the walls itself.

Farbeaux watched the doors to the elevator. In the semidark of the clinic his hackles rose to an all-time high on his danger meter. He again jangled the handcuffs.

“Airman, I would feel much better if I was able to move about. Release me from this bed — it may be a bit too heavy to run with it on my back.”

“Colonel, you know I can’t. Captain Everett was specific in his orders about you.”

“I think the colonel’s right. I’ll take responsibility,” Denise said as her eyes turned from the elevator doors to the far wall where the stairwell was located. “I’m officially saying that his circulation is being cut off and am ordering the cuffs removed.”

The sergeant looked hesitant but then pulled his sidearm and tossed the key to the doctor.

“A wise decision Airman,” Henri said as he watched Denise undo his restraints.

“Colonel, make no mistake; I will shoot you if you try anything.”

As the cuffs were removed Henri flexed his wrists and sat up enough to place his bare feet on the floor.

“I’m afraid by the sound of that racket in the walls and elevator shaft, you may have to shoot something.”

All eyes were on the elevator doors as the pounding got louder and louder. The tension was building as whatever was making the horrible sound was growing closer. Suddenly the door to the stairwell burst open. The sergeant turned with his nine millimeter poised to blast their visitor. It was Henri who reached out and forced the gun barrel down just as Virginia Pollock, Sarah, Gloria Bannister, and Will Mendenhall came through the door. They watched as Will closed the door and then slowly started backing away from it as if he expected something to burst through it at anytime.

“God,” the airman said, grateful that the Frenchman forced his aim off as he had come close to killing Dr. Pollock. “Doctor, Lieutenant McIntire, I almost shot you!”

Farbeaux watched as Sarah caught her breath. His eyes told him that she had received far more damage to her head and face. Still breathing hard, Sarah saw Henri and their eyes locked. She immediately went to the side of the bed where the Frenchman was trying to get to his feet. She took his hand but said nothing. As for Farbeaux, he just felt the warmth of her touch but made no move to comfort her.