Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

hospital dramas when I was in college. Almost every third episode had someone escaping,” he mumbled. “This is your destination.” He showed Bev the map. “Find the parkade. We’ll come back first thing. Five AM. We’ll be at the doors in the van. Use the burner to text us when you’re in range. We’ll pull the alarm.”

Bev looked ready to argue, but her shoulders rolled forward and she sat beside me. “Fine.”

Marcus smiled. “Glad you’re okay, Rex.”

“What about flying? How am I going to get on a plane like this?” I asked.

“I forgot. You don’t know yet. We’re not flying commercial, or private.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” Then he was off.

My eyes closed, and I grabbed Bev’s hand. “Have them remove the catheter too, would you?”

“I’ll make sure.” I heard her sit in the chair as I drifted off into sedation.

____________

“Rex, you have to be losing it if you think it’s a good idea to escape the hospital,” Bev whispered as the nurse left.

“Bev, Richard’s dead. We just killed three Believers.” I lifted a hand and tested my trigger finger. I’d killed two men in the span of a few days. I felt much better today and was glad they’d decreased the drug dosage they’d given me.

“Fine. But when we’re done with this, we’re contacting the authorities.” She glanced at the door and smoothed a wrinkle on the shirt. “I’ll see if I can find you a robe or something less conspicuous. Don’t go anywhere.”

She opened the door, and I spotted a police officer across the hall. He stared at his cell phone and gazed up when Beverly departed. I snapped my eyes closed and heard her muffled reply to him asking if I was awake. “Not yet,” she said.

I managed to turn the drip of sedatives off, and when Beverly came in with a buff trench coat draped over her arm, I started to climb from the bed. The IV came out easily enough, but the machines started to beep as I removed the finger sensor.

“Now,” I said, and Bev texted Marcus.

A moment later, the fire alarm rang out. My feet were bare, my knees wobbly as I swung off the bed. Bev was there to catch me, and I steadied myself as she helped me with the jacket. She had her purse strap around her body, and I glanced at it, seeing medical supplies stuffed inside.

We moved to the room’s doorway, and I pushed it open. The cops were jogging down the hallway, and a few nurses were talking to security, trying to determine if they should be evacuating the patients in recovery.

“Help me out,” I whispered, and we departed quickly. Beverly had her arm around me, and I attempted to walk as normally as I could, following the blue line on the floor as Marcus had instructed until we spotted the unoccupied wheelchair. To our advantage, no one seemed to notice us as we rolled through the halls.

I gritted my teeth, grimacing in pain as we went, and Bev hit the elevators. People were leaving the library, and Bev hastily pressed the “Door Close” button as a group began to approach.

The doors shut right in time, and we started descending, until we stopped at P1.

A firefighter was in our way, talking with a man in a blue jumpsuit, and we shuffled around them with a soft “Excuse me” from my sister.

They didn’t pay us any mind, and I was about to ask Bev for the cell phone when the van honked from our right. The tires screeched as it rounded a corner sharply and skidded to a halt. The side door slid wide, and Marcus was there with Veronica, helping me into the vehicle. Bev rolled the wheelchair away, abandoning it. I fell into the seat as Beverly jumped in behind me, and she slammed the door shut as Tripp raced forward.

Lucky for us, the gates were open wide, but a line-up of early evacuees waited in front of our van. It took five anxious minutes to leave, and my stomach protested at the movement. The drugs were still working their magic, and I dreaded coming down from the painkillers, but knew my sister well enough to know she kept over-the-counter stuff on her at all times.

The sun was beginning to rise as we exited the hospital grounds, driving for the freeway. “Where are we going?” I asked, seeing we’d missed the exit to Hunter’s cove house.

“To Portugal,” Tripp said from the driver’s seat.

I closed my eyes, hearing the kids behind me asking their dad if Uncle Rex was going to be okay. Then I fell asleep.

3

When I came to, it was much brighter, and I glanced at the sky, finding the sun hadn’t shifted much. I hadn’t been out for long. Bev was beside me, her head rested on my shoulder. She snored softly, and I hated to wake her.

“Tripp, are we almost there?” I had to use the bathroom, and I was extremely thirsty. “Any water around?”

Marcus was in the front passenger seat, and he opened a fresh bottle, passing it to me. “Just a few more minutes.”

I was about to ask where but looked out the window to see high fences along open fields. A distant sign indicated we were nearing an army base. “What are we doing here?”

“I’m calling in a favor,” Tripp said, smirking at me in the mirror.

“Can we trust them?” I asked.

“This guy owes me. Big time. Trust me when I say he’s no Believer.” The road was gravel, and the rocks grumbled under us as we slowed near the front gates. An officer with a tablet stood near the entrance, and he marched up to Tripp.

“We need to see Colonel Jerkins,” Tripp said.

“You’re not on the list,” the officer said.

“Tell Jerkins that Davis is here. He’s expecting us,” Tripp’s voice was different, more clipped and authoritative. I expected he’d used that when talking to subordinates during his entire military career.

The man walked away,