Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

Once she got to his position, David had already plotted the rest of their route to the door. "We need to get street-side, find transportation and get out of the area immediately. We can go to a safehouse to hole up in until I can arrange to get us safely out of the country."

"Um, okay." The woman hurried to match his stride. "Hey, what's your name?"

David had any one of several cover identities in place for just such a question, including the doctor one that had been prepared for their incursion into the hospital, but at the moment, he had been through too much to give them any thought. "David," he said.

"I'm — Maggie."

The pause had been slight, but David caught it all the same. He glanced at her and smiled. "Don't worry, you're with the good guys now."

"That's good guy, remember? I'd really feel better if the rest of your friends were here."

David's expression tightened, but he quickly smoothed his features over, not wanting to alarm her. "Fair enough, but I'll be calling in reinforcements like nobody's business. Now, Maggie, let's get the hell off this roof."

They came to another metal door, this one locked with pass-key access. "Finally, something going our way," David said.

Maggie's eyebrows rose. "What, the locked door?"

"Yup." David drew his cell phone and extended two small metal prongs from the top. Inserting them into the slot where the card would normally go, he slid them down through the narrow opening once, then again. After the second time, the mechanism clicked, and when he pulled on the handle, the door swung open to reveal another staircase, this one much more utilitarian that the last one. Refracting the prongs on the phone, he sheathed it again, then started down the stairs. "I never get locked out at home."

"I'll bet. We should probably find something to cover your wounds — otherwise you're going to attract all sorts of attention."

David was pleased that she had thought of that, and annoyed that he hadn't. "Good point. I'm sure we'll find something along the way." He paused in the middle of the flight, leaning against the railing as a wave of dizziness swept over him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

David shook it off, inhaling deeply. "For someone who's been shot twice today, I'm just ducky. Let's keep moving."

They continued down to the second floor, where David's rudimentary French told him there were patients on this floor, but he couldn't tell what department of the hospital they were in. "Let's take a quick look around here — see if we can find a lab coat or something."

"All right. Let me go out first," Maggie said.

"Sure, but I'll be watching you, so no funny business."

"Don't worry, I'll stay in sight the whole time."

"Okay, go." David leaned against the wall next to the door, sucking in a breath that made his side ache with the effort. When he took his hand away from the wound, bright red blood oozed out. That's not good, he thought. Remembering to watch his charge, he looked through the window to see the now empty hallway.

Oh, shit! David peered one way, then the other, trying to see as far down as he could without opening the door. There was no sign of her in either direction. Damn it! He was just about to open the door and go after her when it swung toward him, almost hitting his face.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked.

Her arms were full of medical supplies, along with a white jacket. "Hey, relax, I found a storeroom and took advantage of it. I got bandages, gauze, tape, alcohol, everything we need. Now hold still." She knelt down and lifted his shirt, wincing as she peeled it away from his wound. "Ow, that's nasty."

"Just get something on it and let's get out of here," he said.

"Hold still, and I will. This wing seems pretty quiet. No one's running around or anything — it's almost like they haven't even heard of the crash yet."

"Good for usss!" David's breath hissed between his teeth as he tried not to cry out when she swabbed alcohol on his wounds.

"Sorry, I know this isn't the nicest treatment, but it'll have to do until you can get treated by a professional."

"That's irony for you — surrounded by doctors, and we can't ask a single one for help," he said.

The comment brought a smile to Maggie's lips as she worked. "You always crack jokes when you've been shot?"

"Takes my mind off the pain."

"Well, I'm sure any doctor here would say try not to include so much lead in your diet, then call the police next. Sorry, but you're stuck with me for the time being." She folded a bandage into a double-thick pad and securely taped it over the side wound, then did the same with the shoulder injury, recovering the entry and exit wound. "That'll do for now. Here, clean up your hands, and wipe down your face while you're at it." She held out a handful of self-sealed antiseptic wipes for him.

"You thought of everything," he said.

"Well, you did save my life back there — twice — so I figured I should probably start pulling my weight somehow."

"So far, so good."

"All right, Doctor." Maggie held out the lab coat. "We should be able to get outside with this and to the street. I hope your little gizmo can open car doors, as well. It'd be embarrassing to see a doctor standing next to his car with a bent coat hanger." Her words were light, but David still detected the undercurrent of fear in them. Which is probably just how I sound when I talk right now, he thought.

They took the last flight of stairs down to the ground floor, and once again Maggie poked her head out to make sure the coast was clear before David emerged. Although this level was crowded with people, no one gave them a second glance, as they were all intent on their own business. As they walked, David heard snatches of conversation about something that had happened on the premises.

"…helicoptere…"

"…accident…"

"…quatre personnes mortes…"

David stiffened at that last bit, but Maggie kept him moving toward the double doors that led outside. They came out into a broad thoroughfare that led to other areas of the hospital grounds. "All right, wheels."

A sleek silver hatchback pulled in from the street to the north and parked near an entrance about ten yards down from them. A harried-looking man dressed in a suit and tie got out and rushed into the hospital, barely slamming his door closed behind him.

"That'll work. Come on." David headed over, glancing casually around to make sure no one was watching. He extruded the prongs on his phone again and pressed a button. After a few seconds, the locks popped open on the car. "Get in."

"Hey, it might be best if I drive, given your condition," Maggie said.

David regarded her for a moment, then nodded. He went to the passenger's side and sank into the leather seat with a grimace. "Ow."

Maggie got in the driver's seat. "Okay, start 'er up."

"Right." David extended the second prong, making it longer this time. "Put that into the keyhole and press seven three times."

Maggie did so, and the ignition turned over without her hand moving, the engine purring quietly. "Wow."

"Yeah, now let's hit the road before the suit comes back to find us boosting his ride."

Maggie adjusted the seat, belted up, shifted into gear and pulled out, aiming for the same entrance the man had come through. She slammed on the brakes as a large cargo truck lurched into the entryway, blaring its air horn as it screeched to a halt. The driver threw up both of his hands in the universal gesture of exasperation, shaking his head and mouthing what were no doubt aspersions on Maggie's dexterity, ancestry and anything else he could think of. Smiling sweetly, she squeezed the car through the narrow opening, turning right on the street and accelerating away.

David had just managed to get his seat belt fastened before slamming into it, the restraint locking up across his chest and lap, and making his injuries flare with so much pain he nearly blacked out. His vision was dimming, turning gray around the edges, and he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't think. His last conscious memory was seeing her turn to him and ask, "Where to, David — David?"