--=-Chapter 47: Let’s Do This--=-

I had to lean against the patrol car to keep from collapsing. My limbs were tingling, and I was having a hard time focusing.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the brain fog and orient myself, but it just made me dizzier.

I wasn't going to let Hands just have his way again. He might not view me as a threat without my shadow, but I would show him I wasn't a rug for him to walk on either.

With a huff of exhaled breath, I collapsed into the driver's seat of the patrol car.

Whatever I told myself, I wouldn't be beating anybody with a club or bat. Aqua Guy might not have used enough tranquilizer to knock me out, but my coordination and strength were sapped.

I wasn't willing to leave it there. I wasn't willing to be framed for further abuses. And I wasn't going to just stand by while they stole the free will and dignity of people who had trusted in me.

I didn't like guns.

Before the apocalypse, I considered myself a pacifist. One day, maybe I'd be allowed to get back to that. This wasn't that day.

Unless something had changed, there was a shotgun in the trunk of Jon's Patrol car. Most of the trunk had vanished into the vortex, but not all of it. Only around a third of it remained clear, but because of the angle, only about half of the deepest part of the trunk was cut away. With luck, that would be enough.

The keys were still dangling in the ignition. I already knew the car wouldn't start, but that didn't stop me from trying again. We'd hit the van pretty hard. It wasn't a surprise the engine wouldn't turn over. Hopefully, the three wheels that hadn't gone through the vortex were still aligned well enough that I could push the car forward.

Strictly speaking, I didn't need to move the car to get in the trunk, but I had no interest in stumbling around—half-tranq'd—inches from a wall of annihilation.

My tingling limbs protested pushing the car, feeling far too weak to accomplish anything. I stood in the open door of the car, one furry hand on the steering wheel, the other pressed into the doorframe next to my shoulder as I pushed forward. My legs burned and barely felt up to keeping me standing, but inch by inch, I moved the car away from the vortex.

It turned out the front passenger-side tire was flat and probably at least a little misaligned. Between that and the drugs weakening me, progress was slow. Eventually, I pushed it forward enough to reach the trunk without getting dangerously close to the vortex.

The trunk latch and most of the right side were gone. If the case and mount weren't so deep in the trunk, there probably wouldn't be enough left of the gun to be of use. As it was, my luck was mixed. Most of the shotgun had survived, but the tip of the barrel was sheered away at an angle, leaving a sharp point. I had no idea how that would affect the shot spread, but at that moment, I was willing to find out.

The other problem was that only four shells had survived outside the vortex. On the bright side, there was also most of a bulletproof vest. It would be small on me and was missing a bit of the right side. I wouldn't be able to secure it with the velcro straps, but I knew Jon kept a roll of duct tape in the glove box. That should be enough to get me through.

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I'd hoped some of the stuff we'd packed might have also survived the crash—if only because I had some keepsakes I'd miss if things ever calmed down enough for it to matter. Unfortunately, the bags had been loose, and the spin and sudden stop of the car must have seen them all roll into the vortex. Maybe it was for the best. I wasn't sure if things ever would calm down at this point. Letting go of the world that was would eventually be a necessity.

Hobbling back to the front of the car, I sat down and loaded up my shells. It was not the overwhelming firepower I'd hoped for, but it would have to do. Besides, there might only be four shells, but I'd make sure Hands understood I'd use those four shells over and over each loop until he learned not to mess with me and my friends or even my allies.

Slipping out of my lab coat, I draped the vest over my head and used the duct tape from the glove box to secure it closed. As expected, it didn't even reach below my rib cage. Still, my lungs and heart were mostly protected, or at least better protected than without it. If anything, they'd probably aim for the vest because it stuck out. Like drawing a dot on a blank piece of paper, it should draw their eyes. Or so my amateur psychoanalyzing suggested.

Even if I was wrong, it wouldn't change my actions.

As ready as I could be, I considered my approach. Everyone who didn't want me in the hospital would expect me to use the rear entrance. For one, it was right there. It was also the only entrance I'd used besides the emergency room entrance. A shotgun might be a good weapon against the hive mind swarm, or at least as good as I had access to, but Crowseph wasn't my target right now. Maybe if it solved Jessica and Alice's trauma monster problem, I'd try it, but I doubted it would.

There were other entrances, though. For my purposes, the main entrance next to the parking garage fit the bill nicely. It entered on the first floor of the building, the floor that had the physical therapy pool that held Hands. The downside was that the chapel was also on that floor and pretty close to the main entrance, if memory served. I'd be dodging Jon, and Buck, and who knew how many others—trying to sneak past them to get to Hands.

Jon had said they controlled most of the hospital, but I knew that didn't include the ER. Presumably, Hands had at least as much space carved out for himself. No one else had so much as mentioned a dolphin, which probably told me everything I needed to know.

According to Sori, Hands could create illusions. Considering he'd fooled me by pretending to be a man that appeared from nowhere, it seemed believable. It was possible he was similarly hiding his location. Or maybe there'd been a quiet war for territory going on a single floor below me.

Considering how much attention I'd been getting, that seemed unlikely. I doubted Jon would have followed me out to the Gremlins' hut that time if there'd been a secret war for the first floor in progress.

At the same time, Hands's goons had walked me down the stairs and across at least part of the first floor only a few loops ago. Of course, it had been early in the day, so Kay's group may not have gotten organized yet.

Either way, I'd have to make it work. Aquarium Guy had managed. Besides, there couldn't be that many people still in the building.

Alice's group had stayed to finish a surgery. Nia had seemed to think her mom had stayed behind for religious reasons, believing it was God's plan or the rapture or some such. Others, like Hands's goons, Maebe, and Buck, I didn't know why they'd been trapped. Perhaps, like Jon and I, they'd just been too slow, but there couldn't be many like that in the building.

I didn't have enough shells to waste any scaring off Buck or Jon. I really didn't want to risk that becoming one of the few memories that persisted anyway. I would just have to be quick and quiet and hope my aura didn't give me away.

While I wasn't a fan of guns, Jon had insisted I knew some of the basics if we were going to be roommates. He only kept a pistol in the apartment, but we'd gone to a range, and he'd shown me how to load and use all the guns he'd been trained on. He wanted me to know how to disassemble and assemble them, too, but I had to draw a line somewhere. I knew the shotgun was pump action, and there was a place to load multiple shells. Three shells fit into the gun, and I'd put the fourth in a spot for it on my vest. The tattered lab coat would be staying behind, but I tucked the pencil into a pocket and slid my borrowed notepad under the vest itself.

The seared-off barrel of the gun still concerned me, and I considered trying to use the vortex wall to sheer off more so it was at least flat. As it was, the muzzle was sliced off at an angle that left a sharp point. In the end, I decided against it. If I ran out of shells, I'd basically have a bayonet, if I could muster the strength to use it.

Taking several deep breaths, I leveraged myself out of the car and rose unsteadily to my feet.

Alight, let's do this.

--=-

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