Storm Prey

Hanson, the bone-cutter, who had been sweating the fit on the caps, made a rude noise. Out of the corner of her eye, Weather saw Kristy push out of the OR and into the scrub room.
    Weather thought, He might have a hand grenade. Oh my God, don’t let him have a hand grenade, then put it out of her mind and began suturing the scalp.
    Maret asked, “Hearts?”
    “Ellen is looking shaky. She’s been worse,” a cardiologist said.
    “Sara’s good,” said another.
    Weather was tying as she went along the suture line, adjusting the skin as she went. Some of the edges were drying, and since she had a bit extra, she snipped it off and sutured the more viable scalp.
    She did a knot, couldn’t help herself, and glanced up again:
    No Lucas, no Virgil, no skinhead. He’d gone.

19
    CAPPY SCOUTED the halls from the back of the hospital down toward the operating rooms. He’d spent enough time cruising the various wards that he knew most of the ins and outs of the place, but still got lost from time to time.
    The storage closet was the center of his explorations. If he hadn’t been there to kill somebody, he might have thought about moving in. Nobody ever came to the closet, and he rarely saw anybody in the adjacent hallways. There were plenty of toilets and showers around. Hell, maybe he could have gotten a job. He’d spent quite a bit of time pushing patients around the hallways, was beginning to understand their ways.
    But, he was there to kill somebody.
    He didn’t mention it to Barakat, but he’d put two grenades in his jacket pocket on this last day, along with the Judge in his belt.
    Made him feel weird; like a suicide bomber.
    On the other hand, he’d had a vision, the last time he’d been in his bed. The vision was simple enough: he’d been running through the halls of the hospital, trying to find a way to get out. He was being chased. He dropped a grenade and turned a corner, and the chasers were stopped. That was all: a long, long chase, with dropped grenades blowing behind him, keeping the chasers away.
    Only trouble was, he always seemed to be running out of grenades, the chasers never quit, and the hallways were endless.
     
     
    IN THE CLOSET, he changed into the uniform, picked up a piece of two-by-four that he’d found in the kitchen, and headed out, nodding at nurses here and there, the grenades in his leg pockets like medical instruments, or maybe a tool, bouncing against his thigh, the Judge stuck in his waistband, under the long untucked uniform shirt. He walked around the observation room in a big circle, looking down the hallways at the door. He saw people coming and going, but never saw the cowboy. Satisfied that he was okay, at least for the moment, he left the two-by-four tucked behind the stairs in the stairwell going down to the operating floor.
    He’d hit Karkinnen as she came out of the operating room, from the doorway of the stairwell. Then he’d drop the two-by-four between the bottom step and the door, so it couldn’t be opened. He’d go back up the stairs, down the halls, and be gone in one minute.
    With the two-by-four in place, he went back to the observation room, squeezed through the door, quietly as possible, looked down, and saw the woman in the center of the OR, straight below him.
    A man next to him, in a doctor’s jacket, was watching so intensely that his mustache seemed to bristle. Cappy asked him, quietly, “Where are they?”
    “Almost there. Five minutes,” the man said.
    Cappy checked the observation room: no cowboy. He could hear the people talking below, but it was so cryptic, so medical, that he understood very little of it. He took a seat.
    Then the woman said, “Cap,” and Cappy stiffened. Had she said his name? What? There was some shuffling around, and she looked up at him, and then away. The guy who moved in front of her was large, and all he could see was her head. He sat back, watching, tense. Nothing happened. Had he misheard?
    She never looked back up. Still, he was uneasy. Then the other doc said it: “Cap.” This time, he was sure of what was said, “Cap,” but not what it meant. Nobody was looking at him.
    What was happening? Maybe nothing. Still: maybe take a quick look in the halls, then come back and wait until she left the OR. Karkinnen started and ended the operations, so she’d be coming out soon. He stood up, backed through the door, and walked away.
     
     
    KRISTY BURST into the hallway, looked both ways, saw Lucas leaning