Mount Mercy

When the anesthesia had faded and she’d slipped into healthy, normal sleep, I stumbled downstairs, blinking in the bright hallway lights, to find Corrigan. He’d want to know she was okay.

Thankfully, the ER had quietened down. I figured all the doctors must be with patients because the hallways were empty. I started making my way past the exam areas, shivering: why did the ER have to be so drafty? I was hoping I’d hear Corrigan’s Irish accent. Instead, I heard cursing and then a hard, heavy thump, as if someone had been slammed up against the wall. I stopped, right outside the curtained entrance to Exam One.

“Did I tell you you could leave, Seth?” I’d never heard a voice like it: a low rasp, like a cold wind blowing through jagged, rusty metal. It was the opposite of Corrigan’s accent: it set every one of my nerves on edge. I froze, staring at the curtain, afraid to move.

“No Sir.” A younger voice. Was the Sir military? Or was it a kid speaking to his dad? It sounded like a little of both. “I just—”

“So you disobeyed me.” It was a Colorado accent but stripped bare and hardened by hate. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I’d never heard such raw, poisonous anger.

“He was just trying to look after me, Colt.” A third voice, older but more gentle. “You know I got a problem with my heart.”

“IF my men need medical attention, I will decide when and where.” For all its fury, the voice hadn’t risen above that low rasp, which made it all the more chilling. “Do you understand me, boy?”

The younger guy wheezed, as if he was being choked. “Yes, sir.”

But that wasn’t enough. “Do you understand me?”

I had to get help. But as I took a step, my sneaker squeaked on the linoleum.

The curtain was whipped aside and I froze, staring right at the man they called Colt.

He wasn’t a big man. He wasn’t much taller than me and he didn’t have Corrigan’s wide shoulders or strong chest. But he was the most frightening man I’d ever seen.

It was as if he used to be a normal, average guy and then something had happened to him, over many years. Something that had boiled away every gram of fat, leaving only sinew and gristly muscle. Something that had dug the trust and kindness and humanity from him, leaving only rage and iron-hard resolve. Beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his plaid shirt, his skin was stretched drumskin-tight over veins and muscles, every inch covered in faded tattoos. His eyes, above his long, salt-and-pepper beard, were like two points of cold light at the bottom of a mineshaft.

He’d had the younger guy pinned up against the wall by his throat, but now he released him and turned to face me. Both the younger guy and older guy backed away, terrified.

His eyes never leaving me, Colt pushed back his shirt and drew a wicked-looking knife from his belt. “You hear something, doc?” he rasped.

And he stepped towards me.

8

Dominic

I’D JUST FINISHED examining an old lady with a sprained wrist when I heard the voice. I pushed back the curtain of our exam room and looked across the hallway, straight into Exam One.

I recognized Seth and the old guy I’d examined that morning. As soon as I saw the guy with the knife, I had no doubt he was Seth’s father. The family resemblance was unmistakable, but it was the fear in Seth’s eyes that sealed the deal. This is what he’d been scared of, that morning. And I could see why. His father looked as if all he’d done for twenty years was work out and drink whiskey. He was stripped-down and wiry, like a dog that’s gone feral.

And then I saw who he was walking towards: Beckett. Ice rose up inside me and grabbed hold of my heart. I was between them before I was even aware I was moving, blocking the man’s path, shielding Beckett’s body with mine. The fear turned to protective rage as it reached my lips. “Back the fuck off!” I roared. “Right now!”

His face was two feet from mine but he didn’t so much as blink. He either had the self control of a saint or he was full on batshit crazy. His arm tensed, ready to stab with the knife. It was one of those big hunting knives and it wasn’t just for show: the thing was worn and scarred with use. Shit. I’ve been around and I know how to fight, but I’ve also seen up-close what a blade can do to people. And once he stabbed me, Beckett might be next.

There was a patter of feet at the far end of the hallway. Seth’s dad and I both looked up to see a pair of cops racing toward us. I’d seen them a few times around the hospital: Earl, old and overweight, and his protégé Lloyd, dark-haired and gangly and barely old enough to wear the uniform. They must have heard my yell. I had no idea why they hung around the hospital so much, but right now, I was very glad they did.