D. MacHale: Storm

The signal was either too weak or the battery was near dead. “It’s coming from in there,” Tori said, pointing to a closed door.

I didn’t hesitate and went for the door.

Dim light entered the room as I pushed it open. It was enough to see a small office. On the far wall was a desk that was stacked with electronic equipment, some of which had green power lights on. There were several computer monitors lit up and showing colorful data.

“It is a radio,” Kent said.

“Why do they have power?” Olivia asked with confusion. “It must be running on batteries,” I said. “Or an emergency generator. It looks like the communication room for the ER.”

“So what is it picking up?” Tori asked.

The static and voice were coming from speakers mounted near the ceiling. It was a bad signal, but I didn’t want to risk monkeying with the touchscreen for fear I would lose it completely. The static continued along with the ghostly voice of a woman who was broadcasting from… somewhere. I only caught every third word. “… appeal… survivors… bloodied… attacked… join… north… thirty-six degrees… twenty seconds… hundred fourteen… fifty-seven… invaders… strength… hesitate…” The voice was clipped, and it cut in and out so that whatever she was saying made little sense.

“Maybe we can talk to her,” Kent said and went for the radio. He picked up a microphone on a stand, brought it up to his mouth, and—

“Don’t touch that!” barked a male voice from the hallway. We all jumped in surprise and spun quickly to see a guy standing there who didn’t look much older than us. He wore green hospital scrubs and a white lab coat. He had a head of thick, curly black hair and wore large glasses that gave him a wild, bug-eyed look. He pushed past us and went right for the radio.

“I don’t want to lose the signal,” he said, peeved. “It’s tough enough finding it because it’s so weak.”

He fine-tuned the frequency by moving his fingers over the touchscreen, but rather than bringing the ghostly voice in more clearly, he killed it entirely.

“Damn!” he said, frustrated. “It’s over.”

The guy touched a few more icons, and the radio went dark. “Who was that?” Kent asked. “And who are you ?”

“Jon Purcell,” the guy said. “I mean, that’s who I am. I don’t know who she was.”

“What was she talking about?” Olivia asked.

“I’m not sure,” Jon replied thoughtfully. “She comes on every two hours and says the same thing, I think. It’s hard to tell because I only get random words. She talks about survivors and heading west and spews out numbers, but none of it makes sense. I don’t even think she’s broadcasting live. It might be a recording, like a continuous loop, because it sounds exactly the same each time.”

“So you don’t know if she’s close by or on the other side of the world,” I said.

Jon looked at me like I had just asked if fish could sing. “Obviously she couldn’t be on the other side of the world,” he said condescendingly. “Radio waves don’t follow the curve of the earth. With some repeaters she could be broadcasting from a few thousand miles away, but that’s likely the limit.”

“Right. Thanks for the physics lesson,” I said, not meaning it. “Do you work here?” Tori asked. “I need some help.”

“I’m in transportation,” Jon said proudly. “I know every inch of this hospital. What do you need?”

“Transportation?” Ken said sarcastically. “Not exactly what we’re looking for.”

“I was shot,” Tori said, gesturing to her shoulder. “I want to clean up the wound.”

“Shot?” Jon said in disbelief. “How? Why? What happened?”

“Really?” Kent exclaimed. “The whole city is wiped out by laser beams from the sky, and you get all squirrely over a bullet wound?” Jon snapped a look to Kent and walked right up to him. He must have been a foot shorter than tall, blond, preppy Kent, but that didn’t stop him from getting in his face. Or rather his Adam’s apple.

“That’s exactly why I’m ‘all squirrely,’ as you put it,” Jon said.

“There aren’t a whole lot of survivors. The last thing we need to do is start shooting one another.”

Kent looked as though he wanted to smack the little guy, but he held back.

“Can you please show us where the medical supplies are?” I asked.

“I can do better than that,” he replied. “This is your lucky day.” He turned and strode out of the office.

The four of us exchanged confused looks.

“I can think of a lot of words to describe this day,” Kent said.

“‘Lucky’ isn’t one of them.”

“Are we supposed to follow that little nerd?” Olivia asked. “Yes, you are!” Jon shouted from the hallway.

“Oops,” Olivia said, then called out, “No offense!” She got no reply.

We left the radio room and followed Jon deeper into the ER.

The light was nearly gone, but that didn’t stop him from walking quickly.

“Hey!” Kent yelled to him. “Transpo-Boy! You may know every inch of this place, but we don’t.”

“We’re not going far,” Jon shouted back without stopping. We followed him through a doorway, and I saw a faint light further ahead. It was enough to recognize that we were in the main treatment area of the ER. Jon led us down a row of treatment stations that were separated by curtains. Each contained a bed for patients. None were occupied.

The light grew brighter as we approached it, and I could see that it was coming from one of the curtained-off sections. “You’ve got power?” I asked.

“We’ve got batteries,” Jon replied. “And lanterns.” He stepped past the illuminated curtain and said, “We have company.”

Somebody was back there.

“She’s been shot,” Jon added.

The curtain was pulled back to reveal a tall Asian woman with long, dark hair wearing deep red hospital scrubs.

“Hello,” she said with professional distance. “I’m Doctor Kayamori. Please call me Luna.”

She was a strikingly pretty woman who looked Japanese but had no trace of an accent.

“A doctor?” Olivia exclaimed. “Thank god.”

“I told you it was your lucky day,” Jon said, smug. “Who is injured?” Luna asked.

Tori stepped forward.

“The bullet passed clean through just below my shoulder. There was a lot of blood, but that’s stopped now. I just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Luna relaxed and broke out in a big, warm smile. I liked her instantly.

“I’ll have to take your word that the bullet passed through. It isn’t like we can x-ray it. I’ll examine you and see what I can do.” She looked to the rest of us and asked, “What are your names?”

“Kent.”

“Olivia.”

“Tucker.”

“I’m Tori.”

“When was the last time any of you had something to eat?” she asked.

We all looked to one another dumbly.

“It’s been a while,” I replied. “Food’s been the last thing on our minds.”

“Jon, take them to the cafeteria,” Luna commanded. Then to us she added, “Eat the fresh food first.”

“Do I have to do this?” Jon whined.

“Yes, please,” Luna said firmly. “We are still a hospital, and we will continue to provide care.”

“Fine,” Jon said, pouty.

He grabbed a small battery-powered lamp and secured the strap around his head so the light shone from his forehead. The bright beam hit us in the eyes. He didn’t care.

“Follow me,” he said with no enthusiasm.

He shuffled off, keeping the beam on the floor ahead of him. Geek.

“Maybe one of us should stay,” I said to Tori.

“I’ll be okay,” she replied. “Bring me back something to eat.