Those beady eyes wavered for a moment and then dropped to the clipboard in the man’s hands.
“Bauer,” Nate repeated, spelling it out.
“Yeah, fifth floor. Room 512,” he said, waving him in. “But no weapons inside.”
He was talking about the AR slung over Nate’s shoulder. Nate went over to Dakota and handed it to her. A strong gust was kicking up again, making him feel terrible about leaving her out here. But if they couldn’t bring weapons inside, they sure as hell couldn’t bring horses.
“It’s fine,” Dakota told him. “Go see your brother.”
“If you bring Wayne around the corner, you might be able to cut the wind a little.”
She snorted laughter. “Thanks, Dad. Just go, but do it fast before I freeze to death.”
Nate turned and hurried inside.
Chapter 34
He climbed the stairs to the fifth floor and found a hive of activity. Nurses in blue and purple scrubs hurried from room to room. In spite of the hazy glow from a midday sun, the hallway was dim. The hospital was probably on their final reserves of backup power and had cut as many superfluous electronics as they could. Notepad and pen replaced computer files. Clipboards replaced tablets. Nate let out a deep breath and watched a plume of cold air fill the space before him. It seemed even the heat was off.
Room 512 was easy enough to find. Nate was about to enter when a squat nurse popped out of nowhere, scowling up at him. “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t be here. This entire ward is for radiation patients only.” He glanced down, noticing her bulky frame was made even bigger by the lead apron she was wearing.
Behind her, a figure that looked a lot like Evan lay in a bed protected by a see-through plastic tent. The sight left Nate with mixed feelings. On the one hand he felt an intense sense of relief and no small amount of joy at finally reconnecting with a loved one. But the deep sadness at seeing Evan in such a sorry state was almost just as strong.
“I’m here to see my brother,” Nate said, pointing at the figure beneath the tent. “I was told he was in room 512.”
The edges of the nurse’s mouth curled downward for a moment. “Evan Bauer’s your brother?”
“Yes. He was working at the…”
“We know, Mr., uh, Bauer―”
“Call me Nate.”
“Your brother’s in a medically induced coma. He was brought in two days ago suffering from broken bones and burns to ten percent of his body.”
“Ten percent?” Nate repeated, horrified. For a reference point, he knew that the palm of a person’s hand represented one and a half percent of their entire skin surface. “Will he live?”
The nurse’s hardened glare softened a touch. “We’re doing everything we can.”
“I just need a minute with him,” Nate said, a pleading quality to his voice. “It may be the last chance I get.”
The nurse swiveled her head before heading to a nearby hook on the wall and bringing over another lead vest. “You’ve got five minutes. Put this on and take an iodine pill if you have one.”
It wasn’t the bubble of radiation outside she was worried about. He and Dakota had pushed past that particular threat. The danger here was new and unexpected. The victims from the Byron plant and the neighboring area lucky enough to be transported to hospital—they were the ones giving off the radiation here, his brother among them. Nate thanked the nurse, put the vest on and went to his brother’s side. He could see well enough from here it was in fact Evan, buried under a thick wadding of blankets. The left side of his face was red and covered in blisters. Large chunks of the hair above his ear in the same area were missing, as though he’d visited a barber holding a serious grudge. He looked like crap, there was no other way to put it, and Nate wondered what he would tell Evan’s wife Lauren when he saw her. Was it ever okay to lie in a situation like this? Tell her he hadn’t been able to find Evan and let the man die in peace? What remained clear was that his brother was in no shape to travel. He was breathing on his own, that was good. But the poor guy was about a hair’s breadth from folding his hand for good.
Nate watched the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest. “I’m not sure if you can hear me or not, bro. A part of me is surprised I made it this far myself. I went to the plant to look for you. A pair of trigger-happy guards shot up my truck and then told me you were already on your way here. In some ways you’re the lucky one. It’s frigid in here—no getting around that, I suppose—but out there things are so much worse.”
The nurse popped her head back in and told him it was time.
He mouthed that he was almost done. “Amy, Lauren and the boys were taken to a shelter not too far from here. Well, I suppose far’s a relative term. Not far used to mean driving there on a hot summer’s day. The way things are now, one mile feels like ten, maybe more. The point I’m trying to make is that none of that distance stuff matters. We’re gonna do what we can to stay close and check up on you as often as we can. Won’t be long before we take you out of this place once and for all. In the meantime, just stay strong, brother.” Nate reached under the plastic sheeting and squeezed Evan’s hand.
“Mr. Bauer…”
Standing, Nate crossed to the door and stopped for one last look, just in case it happened to be his last.
Minutes later, he was outside, buffeted mercilessly by an arctic wind. The line was still as long as it had been before, maybe longer. Present too were the muscle-bound bouncer types, screening who could and could not enter the hospital grounds. Dakota, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. Logically, she might have sought out a place nearby to escape the blowing snow. The hospital had a small inner courtyard, which Nate checked and found empty. He passed the front entrance again and followed the line around another corner and didn’t find Dakota there either.
Where the hell did you go?
Amid his growing frustration, an array of possibilities occurred to him.
Was she around a different corner? Could she have sought out an empty house nearby? Or had she simply decided to set off on her own?
But here was the problem. None of those possibilities struck him as very likely. Here was a line of folks braving the cold for a chance to enter the hospital. So why would she flee from the elements or, worse, leave him behind?
Luckily, he still had his go-bag.
You might, but she has your AR, that little voice said.
“Nate?” a hooded figure from the line yelled out. “That you? Hey, man, the heck are you doing here?” The guy pushed back his hood, revealing a head of thinning hair and a set of pearly white veneers.
“Sanchez?” Nate replied, almost reflexively. Like Nate, Larry Sanchez was a former cop who had retired from the force in order to freelance. Mostly he did bodyguard work for rich kids and the occasional movie star. The man’s name-dropping skills were legendary. He was also funny as hell once you got past his not-so-subtle need for self-aggrandizement.
Sanchez swung his head back, cackling with laughter. That was the other thing. The man had a sharp, distinctive laugh that always hung on the last note. Somewhere between a hyena and newborn baby. You hated the sound of it until you got to a point where you just couldn’t wait to hear it again. “Would you believe this? The whole state’s gone dark.”
“The whole country, I’m afraid,” Nate corrected him.
Sanchez recoiled and made the sign of the cross. He wasn’t religious, but that never stopped him. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
Nate shook his head, scanning the area at the same time.
“Please tell me you aren’t on a job.”