“That’s about the best work a bunch of bedridden folks have done in a long time.”
“I don’t want to be part of this,” Nurse Tate protested. “I’m getting married.” She saw another nurse coming toward them, an elderly woman with a kind but puzzled face. “What’s happening?” she cried. “Where are all the guards?”
“Something’s going on outside,” the older nurse said. “A lot of people. It’s all very queer. These aren’t visiting hours at all.”
“I’m going to find a guard!” Nurse Tate cried, and fled wildly down the corridor.
Alan saw Devin’s eyes flutter open. He was fighting to come up from the drugs. “Devin, you with us?” Alan whispered. Devin tried to speak but only mumbled. “You’re doing fine, boy, just fight to stay awake,” Alan told him, hoping he could understand.
They emerged onto the loading dock. An ambulance waited there, with an Exile, Rick, dressed in an orderly’s white uniform at the wheel. Some other vehicles had been commandeered, too, to carry the Exiles and anyone else who wanted to join them. When they saw this waiting convoy as they emerged from the hospital, the Exiles and townspeople sent up a great cheer. Alan and two Exiles quickly got Devin off the gumey and into the ambulance. Rick was about to shut the rear door.
“Hop in, doctor,” Rick said.
Alan smiled. “I can’t go,” he announced.
“You’re crazy,” Rick said. “When they get this unraveled, they’re gonna fry your brain in that place.”
“I have to try to do something for the others. Justin Milford’s in there,” Alan said, reaching across Rick and closing the ambulance door. “Get going,” he said,
and clapped the young man on his shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll see you in Milford.”
Rick ran to the driver’s side of the ambulance, put the van in gear, and pulled away. Alan watched it a moment, smiling, then turned back to the hospital, his smile faded, his face darkened.
There were now a couple hundred people on the grounds of the hospital, forming a human chain around the building. The ambulance, siren blaring, approached the line. It stopped.
“Excuse me,” Rick said urgently, leaning his head out the window.
The chain accommodatingly parted, and the ambulance continued on toward the main gate. Along the way, Rick noticed the people, many sitting down with makeshift signs that read free devin milford. As the ambulance approached the gate, the guards automatically opened them. Even the protesters assumed that the ambulance had some official purpose and gave it room to pass, not missing a beat in their chants for Devin’s freedom.
Andrei was awakened by Captain Selovich, an aide he had “inherited” from Samanov.
“Sorry to disturb you, Colonel. An urgent call from Chicago.”
Andrei feared calls in the middle of the night, especially if they came from Moscow. From Chicago, and his aide Mikel, the news would probably be no more than an annoyance.
“Yes, Mikel, what is it?”
“Sir, in Milford, a group of Exiles and townspeople have taken over the sheriffs office. They have armed themselves, and are in control of the town.”
“What has the local SSU done?”
“Commander Gurtman is on the phone now, requesting permission to put down the rebellion with maximum force. As an example to any others who might be so inclined.”
“Tell Gurtman that it is my personal order that he and his men remain at the barracks,” Andrei said firmly.
“But sir… ”
“Mikel, I will hold you personally responsible if those troops leave the barracks before I give specific orders allowing them to do so.”
“Will the colonel explain?” Mikel stammered.
“No, the colonel cannot explain!” Andrei snapped. Then he calmed a bit. “Mikel, I do not need a massacre in Milford at this particular moment. We have already had one of those, as you will recall. The SSU force is confined to barracks until you hear otherwise from me.
“Yes, sir!” Mikel said smartly.
Andrei hung up the phone, returning to bed, and perhaps to his dreams of Kimberly.
The riot police arrived only minutes after the Resisters roared away with Devin Milford.
Helen Quint, the head nurse of the psychiatric unit, was soon on the scene, as was the hospital administrator, a nervous man named Rose. They had confronted Alan Drummond, but their efforts to get at the truth were frustrated by the stunning news that, on top of everything else, the new governor-general’s wife was on her way for an unannounced tour of the hospital, complete with television coverage.
“They cannot enter my unit,” Helen Quint declared. “Just stonewall it.”
“How am I going to do that?” Rose was incensed. “What if they want to see it?”
“We don’t know they’re even interested in the unit,” Quint said.
“Don’t be naive, Helen. You’ve been around as long as I have. This Milford man arrives and the next thing you know we’re having an impromptu tour.” Rose fidgeted nervously. “This smells like a power play to me and I don’t want to be caught in the middle of it.”
“I’ll take the responsibility. I’m sure Deputy Andrews will back me up,” Helen insisted.
Rose walked toward the door. “You do that, Helen.” Alan Drummond stood at the doorway watching. He felt only scorn as their panic mounted. “I know Peter Bradford,” he said. “He’s a decent man. When he finds out what’s going on here…
Rose walked up to Alan. “I have nothing to do with that unit. I’ve never even been inside it. Nobody can blame me—”
A secretary interrupted him and spoke to Alan. “Doctor, they’re coming up the driveway.”
“There’s really no need for me to be here,” Rose said, and walked out the door.
Helen tried to fight the panic inside her head. She wasn’t sure what she should do.
Alan watched her closely. “You’re not going to win this one, Helen. Not now, not here,” he said quietly. The truth of his words fed his confidence. “It’s turning,” he continued. “Do you realize this is the first time I’ve seen someone like you lose in ten years… the first time…
Helen walked to the door and stood in front of Alan. “It’s not over. We’ve done breakthrough work here. Breakthrough!”
Alan smiled slowly. “We’ll see.”
She ran out the door; Alan remained in the doorway. A huge sigh of relief escaped from him, then he laughed, permitting himself the luxury of his victory.
Amanda was both frightened and determined. Ever since she had heard that Devin was here, perhaps being drugged and brainwashed, she had known she must come. And yet, as she approached the steps to the hospital, she knew she was afraid of what she might find.
General Fred Sittman was at her side, and two armed guardsmen flanked them: people of their importance could not move without protection. Amanda wasn’t sure if she was relieved or frightened by her armed guards.
They were flanked too by Jeffrey and his camera crew, burly men carrying bulky cameras, restless, relentless men who barged in wherever they pleased. Even in the New America, the spirit of “Sixty Minutes” still lived.
Amanda saw the little white-coated knot of officialdom that loomed ahead: a nervous man in bifocals, a tough-looking woman, and a couple of unhappy security guards.
And off to the side, a black man, a familiar face, smiling, but one that stumped her for a moment, in this unexpected setting.
She stopped and stared at him, and watched his smile widen with delight. “The first lady of Heartland, I presume,” he said.
“Alan? Alan Drummond? Is it really you?”
He held out his arms and she flew to him. They embraced—as the hospital staff grew nervous—and she whispered, “I’ve come to get Devin.”
“We got him out early this morning; he’s okay.”