Dead of Night (Dead of Night 1)
“It hurts, Billy … oh my god … it hurts so bad. I can’t stop the bleeding…”
The line abruptly went dead.
Trout screamed into the phone. Nothing. He redialed, and got nothing. No voice mail. Not even a ring.
“What was that?” demanded Goat, his eyes filled with fear.
“Marcia. She was hurt. She said she was bleeding and then the line went dead. ” He looked at the phone display. “Says the number is unavailable. ”
“Oh shit. I called my roommate,” said Goat. “He started to say something about hearing sirens and some gunshots, then nothing. You think the storm knocked the lines down? Or…?”
Trout cut him a brief, savage look. “Try the police. ”
Goat hit 9-1-1 and got the regional dispatcher. He put it on speaker and asked to be patched through to Stebbins County. He expected to hear Flower’s voice. Instead a stern male voice said, “Sir, what is the nature of your emergency?”
Instead of asking about the nature of the emergency, the operator asked for his location. Trout hung up.
“What’d you do that for?” asked Goat.
“That was the military,” said Trout. “I’d bet my ass on it. They’re intercepting all the calls to Stebbins police. ”
“Oh, shit,” said Goat softly. “Oh shit. ”
Trout cut in and out of traffic. Cars blared horns at him but he didn’t even slow down long enough to give the finger. His heart was racing faster than the engine.
Goat licked his lips. “The military … that’s good, right? I mean…?” His voice trailed off. A moment later he said, “We’re in deep shit. ”
“I know,” said Trout, and he stepped down harder on the gas.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
WOLVERTON REGIONAL HOSPITAL
“Where is he?”
Irene Compton, the desk nurse, looked up at the intern, who looked about a year younger than her daughter. “Pardon?” asked the nurse with a half smile.
The intern, a petite redhead who could not possibly be out of high school let alone a medical student, was not smiling. “Patient in Sixteen. Chart says he presented with a bite?”
“Oh, that’s Mr. Wieland.
One of the farmers picked him up at a gas station and brought him in. We took vitals and put him in … um. …” She punched a few keys on the computer. “Yup … in sixteen. ”
The intern, whose name tag read Slattery, narrowed her eyes. “No, he’s not in sixteen. I just came from sixteen. There’s no one there. ”
Nurse Compton kept her smile in place. She was well aware that she looked matronly and these interns usually started thinking of her as a mom figure. “Maybe he went to the bathroom. ”
Dr. Slattery turned and stalked away. No thanks, no nothing. Nurse Compton watched her slim figure retreat down the hall. “Bitch,” she said quietly.
Dr. Gail Slattery pushed through the double doors leading to the emergency unit. There were two central nurses stations surrounded by rows of curtained bays. Each bay was marked with a number that was painted on the floor and stamped onto a bright plastic disk mounted on the ceiling just outside the curtain tracks. She stomped past bays eleven through fifteen. Most of them were unoccupied. Fourteen had a broken hip, fifteen had a seventeen-year-old skateboarder. Sixteen was supposed to be the bite victim, but wasn’t. The room was a mess, too. Bloodstains on the sheets, pillow on the floor. Open suture kit sitting on a chair.
She snorted and kept going, peering into bay seventeen, also empty, and eighteen, probable torn ACL. The last bay, nineteen, was next to the bathroom. The patient in nineteen was one that Slattery had already seen. Mona Greene. A geriatric with chest pains. Woman was ninety-three, a smoker, and had a history of angina, emphysema, and congestive heart failure dating back to the Clinton presidency. It was a wonder she was alive, let alone able to drive herself here about once every three months for “chest pressure. ”
The curtains were drawn, and Dr. Slattery parted them for a quick peek.
She was about to say something, but she froze, her lips parted.
Mrs. Greene was there, sure enough … but so was Mr. Wieland. He was bent over the old woman, and for an odd moment Gail Slattery thought that the man was kissing her. Or whispering something in her ear.