Critical Condition by CJ Lyons

Author:CJ Lyons [Lyons, CJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: USA
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2010-05-20T14:00:00+00:00

NORA STARED AT THE GUN AIMED BETWEEN HER eyes. She was certain she was supposed to feel something: terror, panic, bravado, regret, sorrow, hope . . . something. Instead, her body felt absolutely frozen, unable to think, breathe, move, feel.

Her vision collapsed to take in the very large, very black gun and Harris’s finger on the trigger. The rest of the world faded into a distant blur of color. The auditorium had gone silent, so silent that Nora’s ears felt like they were trying to pop.

The clatter of something metal hitting the floor broke the spell. Nora’s hearing returned with a thunderclap. Harris’s hand jerked, his aim jumping up over Nora’s head, although he never squeezed the trigger.

“Leave her alone!” It was Mark Cohen’s voice. Nora dared to look over her shoulder. Mark had gotten off his bed and was leaning heavily on Jason as he hobbled across the stage. “If you want something, talk to me. I’m in charge here.”

Harris simply smiled and nodded to the guard next to him. The burly man leaped onto the stage with grace that defied gravity given his bulk, and with a swift flick of his foot he swept Mark’s leg out from under him, toppling both him and Jason to the ground. Mark cried out in pain.

“I think you’ll find that I’m in charge here,” Harris said calmly, bringing his gun to bear on Nora again. “Now, Ms. Halloran, you’re the ER head nurse. Where’s Dr. Fiore?”

Ignoring the sudden chill that had settled in her bones, Nora edged forward. It was amazing how much effort it took to shuffle her feet; they felt encased in cement. She angled herself to block Harris’s view of the others. Shielding them from his sight—and aim—was the only way she could protect them.

“I don’t know where Dr. Fiore is,” she said, her voice as loud and clear as it was during the chaos of a trauma code. And as certain. She hoped.

Harris narrowed his eyes, lips pinched in disbelief. Nora counted to five, holding her breath, watching his finger on the trigger. He slowly released the trigger, gave her a nod as if they were equals coming to terms, and lowered the gun.

“I believe you. But”—he waved the gun toward the rest of the auditorium—“she’s somewhere in this hospital and I’m going to find her. And if that doesn’t happen quickly, we may need to take alternative and more drastic”—he holstered the gun with a dramatic flourish—“methods.”

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