Richard Stephenson - Collapse

“My femur had two clean breaks.”

“Your hip is probably dislocated.”

“Well, it was worth it. We got Collins in here and saved his life. How is he?”

Dr. Stone had practiced medicine for twenty-eight years. She was no stranger to delivering bad news and knew that sugar coating or dancing around it only made it worse.

“He didn’t make it.”

“Son of a bitch. What happened? I come to, only to find Trudy on the floor next to me and Elizabeth shooting the bastard that killed her.”

Elizabeth explained, “Asshole climbed up onto the rubble and found a hole, shot down into the locker room.”

“How many?” Max was afraid to ask.

“Me, the doc, and this little guy are the only ones left.” Elizabeth kissed the little boy, eager to hear that innocent giggle again.

Max closed his eyes, and the thought of losing two more of his officers overwhelmed him. He hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he felt responsible for their deaths all the same. He thought of the civilians lying dead around him, civilians whom he was responsible for protecting. Max thought back to the hurricanes that had wrecked his life before this one. The other ones were walks in the park compared to this one. Max wondered if he would be able to walk again.

“OK, we need to give you something for the pain.” Dr. Stone produced a pill bottle.”

“Tramadol?”

“Yes, it should help.”

“I hope so. Wish you had something stronger.”

“It’ll have to do. It’s better than Tylenol.”

“No doubt about that. Elizabeth, take one of the vehicles and go get Charlie and his family.”

Elizabeth had already taken the keys to the SUV from Jack. “What about Rudy?”

“He’s dead.”

Neither woman questioned the lie Max had told Trudy. They understood why he had done it. “Anything else, boss?”

“Just double check the armory for anything they might have left behind. And one more thing — I don’t want you to put yourself in any danger, but if you happen to see my desk in the rubble, check the top drawer for my Vicodin. I need the good stuff if you expect me to leave this locker room.”

Elizabeth left the little boy with Dr. Stone and headed off to the police station. Dr. Stone was a grandmother of three and had no trouble with the little one. Max laid on the floor trying his best to remain perfectly still. Dr. Stone very delicately ran her hands up and down his leg trying to feel anything abnormal.

“Your hip is definitely dislocated. The only good news is your femoral artery hasn’t been compromised.”

“Can you pop it back in?”

“Yes, I can do it with Elizabeth’s help. I’d rather you were heavily sedated. We don’t really have a choice. If we try to move you with your hip out of the socket, you could damage your leg and lose feeling in your foot. There’s a good chance that you’ve done that already but we have to proceed on the assumption that you didn’t. I sincerely hope Elizabeth finds your Vicodin.”

“Will popping it back in be that painful?”

“Excruciating. If she finds the Vicodin, I’m planning on giving you so much that it would cause a normal person to overdose.”

Ten minutes later Elizabeth came back into the locker room. “Charlie and his family aren’t at the station anymore. I have no idea what happened to them.” She dug in her pocket and tossed Max a pill bottle. “Your desk was across the street from the station.”

“Well, it’s about time something went our way,” said Max.

“How many do you normally take?” asked Dr. Stone.

“Depends. Usually two every three hours.”

“Double it. After that we’ll wait an hour and give you two more.”

“Sounds like a party!” Max took four pills.

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth looked at Dr. Stone.

“Doctor’s orders.” Max winked at Elizabeth.

“His hip is dislocated. You and I are going to pop it back in. The only way we can do hope to do that is with him heavily sedated.”

“Oh, fun. I can’t wait!” Elizabeth said with much sarcasm.

An hour after Max took the first four pills, they gave him two more and waited about thirty minutes. He was high as a kite and in a giddy mood. When the second dose kicked in, he slipped into a peaceful sleep. Dr. Stone checked his pulse and monitored his breathing for a minute.

“Let’s get started. I need you to keep him perfectly still. Lay down across his chest and hold his arms. I’ll do the rest. If he wakes up, do your best to hold him still.”

Dr. Stone lifted Max’s leg straight up in the air and bent his knee ninety degrees. She put the inside of his knee on her shoulder and hugged his thigh. In a very rapid motion, she threw her body forward and then leaned to the side. She heard a click and felt the ball of his artificial hip slide back into place. Max groaned and stirred, but didn’t wake up.

“Did you do it? Is it over?” Elizabeth was still holding Max down.

“Yes, it’s done.”

“What do we do now?”

“Wait for him to sleep off the Vicodin. We should get some rest while he’s out. Elizabeth, what happens when he wakes up?”

“We get the hell out of Texas and don’t look back.”

Captain Jackson Butler was standing three hundred yards behind Beck Estates. Next to him stood his top NCO, First Sergeant Matt Bankhead. Beck Estates was on full lockdown mode, and Captain Butler was determined to take it by whatever means necessary. Howard’s Artificial Intelligence, Hal, had deployed some very effective counter-measures to keep his soldiers at bay. Butler had sent the first wave of soldiers to the two entrances on the backside of the mansion. They were promptly attacked by sentries on the roof. Howard had programmed the sentries to fire rubber bullets — not at the soldiers’ torsos, but their heads. The move proved effective as the overwhelming majority of his soldiers fell to the ground, either unconscious or missing an eye. The soldiers that did make it to the outer wall of the mansion were powerless to enter the residence. All of the doors and windows had the same force fields covering them that Jackson had encountered in the grand library of the world’s richest man. He ordered them to retreat, and Howard was kind enough to let them collect their fallen comrades and leave without being shot at. Butler figured Howard let them survive to illustrate to him that he only wanted them to leave his house alone and just go away. Jackson Butler had no intention of leaving.

Captain Butler was puzzled by the fact that Howard did not use lethal force to defend his estate. His best guess was that Howard never thought he would need to kill anyone on his property. His defenses were more than adequate to keep intruders at bay, but the fact that Howard wasn’t willing to use deadly force would end up being the one weakness Butler could use to his advantage. Butler quickly learned the maximum effective range of the sentries the hard way. Rubber bullets zinged past him as he and his men quickly ran out into the field behind the mansion. Butler estimated that the sentries had a maximum effective range of between one hundred fifty and two hundred yards. Just to be on the safe side, he set up shop at the three hundred yard mark. He ordered one of his snipers to take out the sentries, but the effort proved ineffective. The sentries had the same force fields protecting them.

“Top, what are you thinking? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Well, sir, it’s obvious that we can’t storm the distance to the back door. We could use riot shields to cover ourselves, but when we make it to the wall, we have no way in.”

“Munitions?”

“Worth a shot.”

“Get a team of grenadiers up here.”