The Minus Faction, Episode One: Breakout by Rick Wayne

Author:Rick Wayne [Wayne, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rick Wayne
Published: 2014-08-15T05:00:00+00:00

T Minus: 050 Days 13 Hours 59 Minutes 47 Seconds

"He can't go in there."

Ethan stood behind John's chair. They watched the argument from the sidelines.

"That isn't your call, Lieutenant." Amarta barely reached the young officer's chest.

The pair had a history. They squared off in a nook by the main hall of the third floor. The L-shaped building had one long hall to the right of the elevators and a shorter hall straight ahead where guards stood on either side and at both ends. The floor had been cleared as soon as Gabriel Gonzales drew his sidearm. He hadn't threatened anyone. He was just sitting, alone, holding the weapon inside Exam Room 3. It had no windows and only one door. There was no way out except past the uniformed men.

"Respectfully, ma'am, it is my call." The lieutenant was from Iowa. He was three weeks past his twenty-fifth birthday. He had called the doctor a bitch more than once, but never to her face. He was contemplating it. "Colonel Philip--"

"Isn't here!" The doctor objected. She had her back to the stairwell, but she wasn't in a corner.

"I'm responsible for the safet--"

"And I'm responsible for my patients. Corporal Gonzales is my patient. Captain Regent is my patient. The two of them have developed a certain rapport, and in my professional opinion, the best way to get Corporal Gonzales to surrender his sidearm without anyone getting hurt is to send the captain. So that's what we're going to do. Both men are my responsibility. The whooole rest of the playground--" Amarta made wide circles off to the side with both hands-- "is yours. That's gonna have to be big enough for you boys, 'kay?" Amarta motioned Regent in.

John fought back a smile. He liked the doc. She didn't fuck around. He didn't wait for the lieutenant to object. He rolled past the guards and down the white-floored hall. The whine from his chair's electric motor was the only sound. The door to Exam Room 3 was open.

John stopped in the doorway. He wasn't afraid of his friend, but neither did he want to escalate the situation. He had a time limit. If Ayn's colleagues showed up and dragged John out, it might send Gabe over.

"How's the leg?"

Gabriel Gonzales was a stout man of average height, dark complexion, and thinning hair despite his youth. His right leg was artificial from mid-thigh to the floor. He had opted for a more functional prosthesis over a more realistic one. He wore a pair of baggy, camo-print shorts and a loose, white button-down shirt with flower-shaped stitching. His eyes were bloodshot. He sat on a small chair next to a clean counter speckled in taupes and blues: hospital standard colors.

Gabe held a polished .45-caliber automatic. He didn't look up. "You know, when I joined, I had so much trouble with the long runs. I've always been a little heavy, and I had a hard time keeping up. Now, after I get discharged," he tapped the dark metal prosthesis, "I'm faster than I ever was.

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