Waiting by Stephen Jones

Author:Stephen Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books

Once they were back at the Monument, Agent Miles was stunned by their appearance. He had dozens of urgent questions, but Carter waved him off and continued on to the office, insisting that Dorothy come along. They left their radio operator behind to explain everything, and by the time they exited the far door Miles was barking orders and calling the military.

“Randolph? Shouldn’t we explain to him that their weapons aren’t likely to do them any good, and the soldiers—”

“Our soldier will tell them what he can. They can draw their own conclusions, but of course they’ll hardly listen. They’re like children—they have to discover the truth in their own way. We have important things to do. May I have your bag?”

“Why, are you injured? Stop, let me look at it.” But he’d already snagged the strap with his claw and taken the bag away from her. Things were so frantic, she hadn’t even realized he’d lost, or removed the pillowcase. “Randolph? I need that. My medical supplies—”

“You’ll get it back in a little while. I think I may have a need for it.”

He struggled with the doorknob to Dream Division, and then forced the door open. It swung hard into the wall, cracking the pane. She could hear the weeping coming from several rooms inside, the small sounds of protests, and then toward the back of the offices, the screams.

“Exactly as I expected I’m afraid.” They went into the closest office. The tramp she had last seen yesterday lay dead, apparently having choked on his own vomit. His eyes were still open, however, and glistening. She was convinced she could see something in the pupils, but Randolph was still moving and she had to struggle to keep up.

They found two more dead, but the others appeared to be alive, although in intense physical and mental pain. They finally reached his office. The old woman lay there on the low couch, arching her back and screaming. Randolph plopped Dorothy’s bag down on his desk, and then opened it before she could stop him. He pulled out some of the medical supplies, finally a syringe and a bottle.

“This should calm her down a bit, give her a little peace. Please administer it, Lieutenant, if you would?”

“We have to be careful with any pain medication. I don’t really know what’s wrong with her.”

“It’s my responsibility, Lieutenant. And I sincerely believe she will survive that shot you’re going to give her. Now.”

She injected the poor woman and her screams gradually subsided into whimpers, and then nothing. But she was thankfully still breathing, although her pulse was wildly erratic.

Dorothy looked up at Randolph. He held the gun she kept in her bag. “I’m sorry, Randolph. I was told . . . I was ordered to carry it.”

“Oh, no apologies necessary, Lieutenant. I told General Craig he needed to give you something, just in case. In fact I insisted on it. It’s a Colt, isn’t it? I don’t really know that much about handguns.”

“Colt M1911 semi-automatic service pistol,” she replied.

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