We pull onto the base and park near steel gates, similar to the ones Bannerman had built in our own wall. These aren’t nearly as wide but look forbidding nonetheless. The twenty foot concrete wall hides a lot of the hospital but the upper floors tower above the perimeter. The walls have been built around an oval road that encircles the complex. There is a giant lock on the bar holding the door shut. We undo the lock and open the heavy doors. Driving inside, I notice the gates have been constructed to be shut from the inside and out. Turning my gaze to the hospital, I am struck by the immensity of the place. If you’ve ever been to Madigan hospital, you’ll know exactly what I mean. The white, eight-story building in front shields a giant complex of buildings behind. I have driven by a couple of times but have never actually looked at it closely. Thus my, ‘why don’t we start here’ phrase the night before and Drescoll’s look.
There is absolutely no way we can take this place with the teams we have. We couldn’t clear this complex with ten times that. There is a multitude of supplies inside that we could really use but it looks like we may have to try a smaller hospital. The wall seems to have been a waste of time, I think climbing out of my Humvee at the administrative entrance. I’m sickened at the thought of wasting so much time and manpower to put it up. I should have known though seeing it’s one of the largest hospitals in the country. I just wasn’t thinking. I was too focused on the kids being back that I didn’t do a fair job of scouting it out before we started building the wall.
I look to the front doors and, of course, the glass panes are broken. I can’t even imagine how many night runners must be inside. I mean, there could only be ten but my imagination leads to thousands.
“Told ya it was big,” Drescoll says standing beside me. I’m sure he said that noticing my jaw hanging down to my knees. At least the enormity of it makes this one of the easiest decisions ever in my life.
“Well, I guess we’re not going in there,” I say to Lynn and Drescoll.
“We could get a diagram and find the pharmacy location. If it’s close, we could form a moving perimeter and get what we need,” Lynn suggests.
“Yeah, I suppose we could do something like that but we’ll have to plan that carefully. We definitely can’t go too far in or we could easily be cut off,” I say still in the mind that there’s no way we could step foot in this place.
“I’m thinking we should try someplace else. Like a small clinic or small-town hospital. They would have fewer night runners around and a place we could most likely clear,” I add still mesmerized by the size of this place.
“We could do that but if the stuff we need is near the entrance, then it’d be the same as going in any other place,” she says.
“True. Let’s drive around and see what we see. Let’s find the ER entrance and take a look. I’m still not going in without diagrams and a plan,” I say.
“Jack? Are you sure you’re okay?” Lynn asks chuckling. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. I mean, do you realize you actually used the word ‘plan?’ Did it really only take a fever to drive some sense into you? If I’d have known that was all it took, well….”
“You missed your calling doing stand-up,” I reply.
We head into the Humvees and drive around to the ER entrance. Several ambulances are parked in the large overhang of the entrance. We exit and I walk to the windows. The glass is broken here as well but either the rain or time has erased any sign of night runners. It used to be that the broken glass on the ground would be mixed with bloody footprints. I suppose the hospital could have been raided while the world was coming apart or after. That actually makes some sense. I step warily to the edge of the door.
The teams fan out around the entrance and the Humvee guns are manned. Lying on the tiled floor are the decayed remains of people. There really isn’t much left of them to decay other than some hair on the top of their heads. The rest has been stripped clean leaving just a few pieces of dried flesh and tendon clinging tenaciously to the bone. The clothes they once wore have been shredded and several of their bones lie a distance away from the rest of the bodies. Although the scene is similar to the one when I went into the hospital at McChord, the smell isn’t as bad as it was there. Time has seen to that.
The thought surfaces that this is a hospital and there could be so many other bodies lying inside. Diseases must be rampant. Of course I’m sure they must be in the same condition as the ones just inside the door if there are night runners present. A faint scent of body odor drifts out of the broken door. I nod; there are night runners inside. The smell replaces any lingering thought that the broken doors have been caused by raiders.
As with any building before, the light from the day fans a short distance across the linoleum floor. I step inside the door. The rest of the large room opens up. There are various pieces of artwork lining the walls with padded chairs and tables against the walls under them. Plants, wilted and brown, are set into corners and scattered about the room. They, at one time, must have given a more serene sight to this place of pain. I mean, that’s what an ER is. You don’t go to the ER if you’re feeling good just for a visit. And as far as I know, very few bingo games or family fun nights are held in emergency rooms.
A nurses’ station is situated against the far wall with swinging doors branching off the room in places. We could grab a diagram here, I think looking around the room for any sign of night runners lurking in corners. I’m still in the light so I feel relatively safe. The safety of daylight is just a couple of steps behind. I’m pretty amazed at how much light is actually penetrating as I can see most everything in crystal clarity. Yeah, it’s in shades of gray but I can make out magazines strewn on the checkered linoleum floor with some still opened on the tables in front of the chairs. It’s to the point that I think I have lowered my goggles. I reach up to raise them only to discover they are already set in the upward position. I look back to see Drescoll and Lynn hovering at the front door; silhouetted against the door with the light behind.
“Can you see the nurses’ station?” I ask.
“Jack, I can’t see shit past the first twenty feet,” Lynn answers. “Use your goggles.”
“Oh yeah, duh,” I reply covering the fact that I can see pretty well without them.
“Jack, are you sure you’re okay?” Lynn asks.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Just still stunned about the size of the place,” I say trying to cover an uneasiness that has come over me.
I turn back around before lowering the goggles. The room is like it was; in shades of gray. I lower the goggles and turn them on. The room brightens more but only incrementally and the gray changes to green. The shock I feel has nothing to do with the enormity of the complex. I really don’t know what to make of it. I lift the goggles and they shut off. Gray replaces green but that’s about the extent of it. I’m not sure I should tell anyone.
“You can use mine if yours aren’t working,” Drescoll says.
“No, I’m good,” I reply. I really don’t trust myself to speak and don’t know what to do or think about this. What the fuck happened to me?
I have a clue but I’m not about to voice it even to myself. It’s like thinking about it will bring it into reality and I’m not sure I want to do that. I can literally feel my body shaking. The filters in my mind shut out my completely focusing on it, but shit, what else is there possibly to think about that has a higher priority in my head? I hear a very faint shriek echo within the vast interior. Well, that has a higher priority, I think hearing the scream die away. It was very faint and seemed to come from the depths of the building.