"Blind belief in authority is the greatest enemy of truth."

- Albert Einstein

8:12 a.m

6 days earlier

“This way!” Oliver Hardy yelled back to his partner as they sprinted through the corridors of the hospital, his coat fluttering in the move. The sound of the crowd got louder with each step.

Julie ran behind him, “How many?” she asked, refreshed from a change of clothes to comfortable blue jeans and a red shirt. Her gun tucked underneath a leather jacket.

“Fifty?” he panted back. “Maybe more.”

The pair stepped around the last corner, shooting out into the hospital lobby. A horde of citizens were gathered in the lobby, desperately trying to push their way through the half a dozen uniformed officers and two security guard standing at the entrance to the pharmacy. Nurses stood fearfully opposite the counter, backing up as far as they could to the walls.

“We want Somnidin!” shouted one of the males on the front-line of the mob.

“We told you,” one of the nurses replied, “There's none left!”

“You're lying!”

A woman climbed onto a chair, capturing the attention of her fellows. “I say we go in there and find it!”

The crowd roared in unanimous agreement and resumed their push with added ferocity. One man slipped past the line of officers, managing to climb halfway over the counter before being violently pulled back by one of the police, tumbling back into the crowd.

Oliver asked, “What do we do, Julie?”

She pulled out her gun from her shoulder holster and fired into the ceiling. Bits and chips blasted off the wooden board, showering her in a rain of white particles. The entire lobby stalled to a hush. The mob turned to face the source of the gunshot in fear.

“What the hell?” Oliver exclaimed, jumping away in surprise.

She ignored him. Her voice booming in the now silent room, she shouted, “You are all going to calm the fuck down! Or I will have all of you arrested!”

The peace broke when an old man stepped forward, “Do your worst cop! There's no medicine left, so we'll die anyway!” the crowd chanted in agreement.

She pointed her gun at the crowd and the whole mob backed away in united terror, the fear of dying etched into the wideness of their eyes.

Julie said, “Come back at night and we will get you a new batch of Somnidin.”

Oliver whispered to her, “I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying. Those drugs are evidence in a homicide!”

“If we don't give them Pearlman's stash, we're going to have a riot on our hands,” she murmured back. “The lab just needs one crate anyway. We can give the rest away.”

“Yeah but-”

“There's no station right now. We're all spread too thin. We have to control the situation, whatever the means,” she turned back to the crowd without waiting for Oliver to reply. “Everyone, I assure you, we will have a new batch of medicine tonight. Please go wait at home until then.”

Murmur erupted within the crowd as discussions ensued. 'Lies' were one of the words that managed to float to the detectives. Despite the apparent distrust, the mob slowly dispersed, glaring menacingly back at the pair as they did. The two security guards came up to the detectives.

The taller one, with a beard that seemed almost apart from his face, commented, “Thanks detectives. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here.”

But Julie was critical, replying, “How did you two let such a large group get past you?”

Nervously, the shorter guard replied, “We-we were called upstairs. One of our medical stores and equipment room was broken into. Looks like theft.”

Oliver asked, “What was stolen?”

“A few syringes and a couple of bottle of fentanyl.”

“Knock out drugs? Aren't you supposed to have those under locks and keys?”

The tall one replied, “We're kind of short handed here. What with the Vashmir Pandemic and all that. The anaesthetist on duty was called for an emergency surgery.”

“Right,” Oliver replied, nodding understandingly. “Anything else?”

“They also took two walkie-talkies,” the tall guard added. “Good ones. Long range. No interference. We use them for power outages and emergencies.”

Julie sighed, “I think I know who took them.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

XXX

11:39 a.m

6 days earlier

“Tim,” Stella's voice croaked through the two-way radio. “Can you hear me?”

Walking down the empty streets, Tim took the walkie-talkie out of his pocket and radioed back, “You're suppose to say 'over', over.”

“I refuse to stoop to your level of childishness.”

“Now you're just being a downer. Are you at the library?”

“Yeah,” Stella's tired heaves could be heard, even over the static. The city's public transportation had shut down, forcing the pair to travel everywhere by foot. Stella's injured leg was no doubt giving her a problem. “You're right though, Mister Galloway's gone.”

“I had a feeling that would happen,” he did not know who or what the librarian was then, especially after the old man's vanishing act at the station. But he felt Howard was there to help, and he needed all the aid he could get. “Did he leave anything behind? Like maybe a note or something?”

A short pause later, Stella replied, “Doesn't seem like it. Want me to come find you?”

“No, you stay there,” he knew Stella would suggest meeting up. But he was worried of her condition. Not just her injury, but also her emotional health after losing her brother. She had insisted on continuing to aid him despite his disapproval, but he intended to keep her as far away from the physical dangers as possible. “Take a look around, see if there's anything he may have hidden.”

“Alright,” she replied, rather disappointed but seemingly understanding of his decision. “Are you at the station yet?”

“Not yet. I'll radio in again once I'm there. We can't communicate after that or I might get caught. We still don't know what that place is like since Adam ran through it,” he gave a pause, but did not let go of his transmitter. “Listen Stell, about Clay. You sure you don't want to talk about it?”

She insisted, “Look, I don't care what he said. I'm going to help you.”

“I know that. I know that. But that's not what I meant,” he released his call to allow her to reply. But when none came, he continued, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah. I want to talk about it,” she said. But the receiver continued to run, preventing him from replying. He could hear light sobs coming from the other end. “But not now. Not yet. I'm not ready yet.”

Tim nodded, though he was unsure what for as there was no one around to witness his actions. “Okay. We'll talk when you're ready.”

“Thanks.”

He walked the last two streets to the police station in silence. His mind fell onto Clay and his father, and he could not escape the idea that the two of them had sacrificed themselves to give him a chance. But before he could delve further into his self loathing, he turned the last corner onto the street that housed the police station and halted in his track.

Tens of cars were parked haphazardly on the road. Ambulances and coroner vans stationed at the perimeter. Bodies, covered in white sheets stained with blood were slowly being carried out of the station to the weeping tears of family and friends who had gather at the foot of the station in waiting. Waiting to identify the bodies. Even from as far as he stood, he could hear the cries of sadness, the wails that seemingly echoed through the world.

Tim thought of Adam, and the realization that a single man with a stock of Somnidin managed to do this gave him a conclusion. The world was changing. It might have already changed and was forever so.

He raised his radio. “Stella. I'm at the station.”

“Alright,” she replied. “How are things there?”

“Fine,” he lied, as a woman fell to her knees in front of the latest stretcher carried out. “I don't know how we're going to do it, but we are going to stop this.”

“Of course we are.”

He headed towards the alley that led to the back of the station. With the attention focused on the front, he found no resistance. Scanning the building, his only way of entrance was an opened window on the second floor.

He pondered to himself, “Okay, now what?” looking deeper into the alley, he saw a dumpster and a used bed frame leaning against the wall. “Pile of trash. Just my speed.”

Pushing the container and lining it under the window, he stacked the bed in front of it. Backing up against the opposing wall, he created some distance between him and his platforms.

With a deep breath for composure, and a thought to Clay and Joshua to protect him, he dashed towards his makeshift launcher at full speed, bolting up the bed, onto the dumpster, and kicked against the wall as he flung himself up towards the ledge of the opened window, both hands outstretched. He managed to grab hold of the edge, pulling himself up and over into the empty office.