Devoured, - [chapter books to read to 5 year olds TXT] 📗

overflowed with angry people, most cursing at the officers and making threatening calls to the police station. Many paced around, hands clenching as they tried to think of a way to get out. Others used sob stories to try to sway the officers into letting them leave.

None of it worked.

Two lanky men made a break for it, charging the line of uniformed men, shouting about their constitutional rights. The officers made short work of them. They pinned the men to the ground, cuffing and immobilizing them. Sliding them away from the doors, the officers sat the men against a glass wall, silently refuting the men’s angry shouts.

Twin children, red-haired and fair-skinned, cried beside their parents, clutching at each other.

“I want to know what’s going on here. If this has to do with the woman upstairs, then we need to find out why they’re keeping us inside.”

Don stuffed his hands in his pockets. “This is such bullshit. As if I have the time to sit around here and do nothing.”

“I’m sorry about this, Don. You came here because my dumbass jumped out in traffic. It’s my fault you’re dealing with this.”

“Nah, this isn’t your fault, buddy. Some asshole in city hall is making the biggest mistake of his life.”

Liz watched the people meandering around the lobby, arguing with the cops. “We should get out of here before things get out of hand.” She turned back to Lance. “I think the officer is right—let’s get some food from the cafeteria. When these people get hungry, the hospital is probably going to have trouble feeding all of them. We’d better get something now.”

“Yeah, OK.” Lance tried not to dwell on the chill in his feet coming from the cold floor, or the draft in his gown. He’d tied the back shut, but the fabric was thin. “Maybe we can find me some clothes too. My ass would really appreciate it.”

The cafeteria was surprisingly quiet. Only a handful of workers stood behind the counters, chattering about the events surrounding them. A few families were scattered around, sitting at tables, eyes glued to the televisions mounted along the walls.

CNN played on all of the TVs, but the volume was too low to hear.

Lance stepped up to the counter and waved at a short, curly-haired woman. She wore a hairnet and apron, looking none too pleased about her current situation.

“Miss? Do you have any idea what’s going on? We just tried to leave, but they have the doors blocked with cops.”

“No idea. My shift ended twenty minutes ago and they wouldn’t let me leave either. It’s total crap. My manager says I should just shut up and claim overtime, so here I am.” She gestured to the assortment of sandwiches, vegetables, soups, and bottled drinks. “You want anything?”

They ordered some food that Don had to pay for because Lance didn’t have a wallet. The idea of Liz paying for anything made Lance want to laugh. Sitting at a table by the left wall of the cafeteria, they stared up at the newscast, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement of their predicament.

“They have to talk about what’s going on here, right?” Liz asked after several minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Lance realized as they sat there, that he hadn’t spent this much argument-free time with his wife in the past two years combined. Just the sight of him usually set Liz off. Having a common problem, other than each other, gave them something else to focus on.

Don must have felt the tension between them, though it was less than usual, as he ate his sandwich and stared at his tray of food.

“I don’t see how they could ignore this, that’s for certain.” Lance read the summary of news scrolling on the screen underneath the talking head, chewing on his lip as he waited for something relevant to appear.

Lance was about to give up when he saw a headline about a hospital being quarantined. He looked over at the woman behind the counter. “Can we get some sound in here? I want to hear what’s going on.”

The volume increased, a woman’s voice piping through in-ceiling speakers.

“…an odd report from New York City. The Presbyterian Hospital is quarantined. Officials aren’t saying why these drastic steps have been taken, but local residents have stated that a severe flu outbreak is the cause. Family members of those inside the hospital have said that no one is being allowed in or out of the hospital for non-emergency reasons.”

A live video feed from outside of the emergency entrance filled the screen. Dozens of police cars parked haphazardly in the area, blocking access. “As you can see, there is a large contingent of police cars surrounding the building. We’ll report more on this as soon as we get it. In other news, the string of practical jokers throwing smoke grenades into public parks, concerts, and even sporting events has reached yet another city…”

Lance rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “We might be in deep shit here.”

“Did she say that was happening in New York?” Liz’s voice went up an octave, her cheeks flushing. “As in, this is happening in more than one city? Not just Pittsburgh?”

“That’s exactly what she said. It sounded like they don’t even know the same thing is going on here yet.”

“Christ,” Don said, dropping the rest of his half-eaten sandwich to his plate. “This is bad.”

“Since when do hospitals get closed down over the flu?” Liz asked. “Is this some kind of epidemic?” She rambled on, her words coming faster and faster.

Lance reached out and put his hand on her forearm, needing her to remain calm. Both Liz and Don stared at the hand, prompting Lance to retract it, mumbling an apology.

“Let’s not panic yet. Maybe we can get a doctor to spill the beans.” Lance stood and walked over to a garbage can, depositing his trash. “We should see if they have some of those little paper masks that people wear so they don’t get sick.”

He didn’t believe those things provided any worthwhile defense against germs, but he needed her to relax.

Liz’s hands shook as she tried to pick up her tray. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She turned on Lance, her mouth contorting in anger. “This is your goddamn fault!”

“Mine?” Lance gaped at her, not understanding why she’d become furious with him so suddenly. He knew how frightened she was, but this was too irrational, even for her.

“If you would have just taken my name off your stupid contact list, then I wouldn’t even be here! Don wouldn’t be here either! But no, you just had to follow some crazy woman into the street, didn’t you?”

Lance struggled with a response. Part of him wanted to fight back, pointing out her selfishness, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Nothing he could say would make a bit of difference. She was beyond the point where he could talk reasonably with her and nothing short of getting out of the hospital could change that.

“I’m sorry I got you into this.” He left the cafeteria and went back upstairs, doing his best to maintain his composure. When she got like that, he often wondered how they’d managed to stay married for so long.

Stubbornness was his guess. That and stupidity.

His floor had quieted down, but people still moped around, whispering about what happened earlier. Lance padded his way down to the nurses’ station, his feet starting to hurt from the lack of shoes.

The nurses appeared just as harried as everyone else did.

“Hello,” Lance said, resting his arms against the counter.

No one responded. They continued shuffling papers and talking into phones.

“Uh, hello?”

The woman sitting directly opposite of him huffed loudly, dropping a pen from her hand. “What?”

Her aggression took him off guard. She was a stout woman of fifty with a beehive haircut that made her look like everyone’s favorite aunt. He hadn’t expected her to snap at him.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I have a few—”

She cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Yinz need to let us work. We have a million problems to deal with right now and we don’t have time to waste answering the same questions over and over.”

Christ, she’s a yinzer, Lance thought.

Pittsburgh natives have an odd dialect that Lance was fortunate enough to have never adopted. They often mispronounced words and letters. Sometimes they just made stuff up, like yinz, gobs, and snookies.

“I’m sorry if my being held hostage is an inconvenience to you.” He read her nametag. “Pam, I just want to know what’s going on.”

Pam let out a long, slow sigh. “You aren’t allowed to leave because you might be sick.”

“But I’m not sick. I was hit by a car.”

“You might be infected and just aren’t showing any signs yet.”

Lance forgot all about the growing pain in his feet. “Infected? Infected with what?”

“Pam, I’ll take this from here.” A doctor walked around the station, giving the nurse a small smile. “How can I help you, Mr.…?”

“York. Lance York.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. York?” He was tall and slender, thinning hair struggling to cover his pale scalp. Wire-rim glasses sat at the edge of his nose, which he peered over at Lance.

“I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“Sorry, Mr. York, but we’re under strict orders to stay quiet.” He gently took hold of Lance’s elbow and led him away from the nurses.

“Strict orders? From who?”

“I’m not supposed to say that either.”

“This is bullshit, you