David Robbins - The Kalispell Run

Place right foot on the brake, shift the lever on the steering column from PARK to DRIVE, place the right foot on the acceleration pedal and gently depress.

The SEAL creeped forward.

“You did it!” Star exclaimed, delighted, clapping her hands.

Geronimo forced his tense muscles to relax. He wheeled the transport in a tight U-turn, heading north on Main.

“What are those for?” Star inquisitively inquired, pointing at a row of toggle switches in the center of the dash. There were four of them, each with a single lever below it. M, S, F, and R.

“No one knows,” Geronimo said. “They’re not mentioned in the Operations Manual for the SEAL. Everyone’s been afraid to touch them until we discover their purpose.”

“Let’s find out,” Star declared, reaching for one of the toggle switches.

“No!” Geronimo lunged and caught her wrist in his right hand. “Don’t ever touch them! Or anything else in here, for that matter. We can’t afford to damage the transport through ignorance or negligence.”

“I’m sorry,” Star said sheepishly.

“She didn’t mean any harm,” Rainbow offered.

Geronimo gripped the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles white.

“I’m sorry,” Star said again.

“No problem,” Geronimo lied, smiling to reassure her. He drove at five miles an hour until they reached the intersection of Main and Sunset Boulevard.

“Take a left here,” Rainbow directed. “Sunset Boulevard turns into Highway 93.”

Geronimo followed her instructions. After several minutes, a faded sign read HIGHWAY 93 NORTH.

Perfect.

The junction with Sunny view Lane appeared in a few minutes more.

“Take a right,” Rainbow guided him.

Geronimo slowly turned onto Sunnyview.

“The Kalispell Regional Hospital is that big building up ahead on the right,” Rainbow said, pointing.

The area surrounding the hospital, like the rest of Kalispell, was deserted. Several rusted hulks, former cars and trucks, lined Sunnyview Lane. The hospital parking lot contained three antiquated cars parked near the main entrance.

Geronimo braked the SEAL at the curb near the front entrance. The transport jerked a bit as he stopped.

“Sorry,” he said, apologizing for the bumpy motion. “These brakes are touchy.”

“It looks dark in there,” Star noted.

The child was correct. Dark and foreboding. Geronimo glanced upward, counting the stories. Five. A sign to his left, still legible in sections, proudly proclaimed the completion of the Kalispell Regional Hospital expansion project.

“Let’s go!” Star eagerly urged him.

“You’re staying here,” Geronimo told her, “with the doors locked.”

“I want to go!” Star protested.

“He has a point,” Rainbow informed her daughter. “You’ll be safe in here. We won’t be too long.”

“I don’t want to stay here alone!” Star disputed her mother.

“You’ll be safe in here,” Geronimo stressed. “Keep the doors locked, like I showed you, and nothing can get inside.”

“You don’t have any choice,” Rainbow added.

“You’re staying in here whether you like it or not.”

Star pouted and sat back in the seat.

“How well do you know the inside of this hospital?” Geronimo asked Rainbow.

“I’ve only been inside it two times,” Rainbow replied, “and I never really memorized the interior.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter all that much,” Geronimo stated. He picked the FNC up from the console and reached into his left front pocket with his other hand to ensure the list Plato had given them was still there.

It was.

“Okay,” Geronimo announced. “Let’s get to it.”

Rainbow and Geronimo exited the transport and waited for Star to lock both doors from the inside.

“She’s done it,” Geronimo commented. He led the way up the front steps to the door, a shattered, gaping aperture, framing a shadowy hallway.

“Think anyone is in here?” Rainbow whispered.

“Never know,” Geronimo stated. “Stay alert, just in case.”

The Kalispell Regional Hospital was deathly quiet, the air stale and musty, the floors and the furnishings covered with the dust of decades of neglect.

“It’s spooky in here,” Rainbow nervously noted.

Geronimo, vividly recalling his harrowing experiences in the sewers of the Twin Cities, tightened his grip on the FNC. If anything so much as squeaked, he’d shoot first and ascertain its identity later!

The light filtering in from outside provided only marginal illumination, sufficient to reveal the interior but not with any clarity.

“How will you find what you’re looking for?” Rainbow inquired.

Geronimo, proceeding from door to door, glanced over his shoulder.

“Most of the plates on the doors are still attached and legible. I’m looking for the laboratory.”

“Why?” Rainbow questioned.

“Because of all the rooms in a hospital,” Geronimo responded, “the lab is most likely to contain what we need.”

“What exactly is it you’re looking for?” Rainbow queried, staying right on his heels.

“A number of things,” Geronimo answered. “We already have the generator Plato wanted. We confiscated it from the Watcher outpost in Thief River Falls. Now we need a microscope…”

“What’s that do?” Rainbow interrupted.

“Makes little things big,” Geronimo said. “Plato said he needs one to examine our blood.” He paused. “That reminds me. I must find test tubes and a blood-testing machine, among other items.”

“I’m surprised,” Rainbow mentioned, “you don’t have all of this stuff already. The Home impressed me as being well stocked by your Founder, Carpenter.”

“We have a few test tubes,” Geronimo confirmed. “The Family owned a microscope at one time too, but some dummy broke it years ago.”

They were nearing the end of the hallway.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Rainbow pointed at a sign on the wall.

Geronimo crossed to the sign and studied the white lettering. “This may be it,” he said excitedly. The sign, faint and barely legible in the gloom, read LAB. Below the single word was a small arrow pointing at a nearby door.

“I’ll help you carry out whatever you find,” Rainbow offered.

“Thanks.” Geronimo walked to the door and tried the knob. “It isn’t locked!” He cautiously pushed the door open, the hallway filling with the eerie creaking of hinges unused for a century.

The Lab was spacious and filled with a variety of medical equipment and scientific apparatus. Wide windows permitted radiant sunshine to fill the room. Cobwebs and dust overspread everything.

Rainbow leaned against the door jamb as Geronimo anxiously went from one piece of equipment to another. “How will you know what you’re looking for?” she asked him. “I wouldn’t know a microscope if I was sitting on one.”

“Plato showed us photographs of the things he wants,” Geronimo explained as he examined a white box with six silver switches and a row of colored buttons. “Many of them were in the encyclopedia or our medical reference volumes. He also provided each of us with a copy of his list.”

“Your Plato thinks of everything,” Rainbow commented.

Geronimo frowned. “Believe it or not, as sharp as Plato’s mind is now, he was once even sharper. Did I ever tell you he has the senility?”

Rainbow slowly shook her head, her long black hair swaying. “No, I don’t believe so. You said the Family was affected by the premature senility, but you never mentioned names.”

“Well, Plato has it,” Geronimo said sadly. “And, between you and me, it’s beginning to affect him visibly, to the point where others have noticed.