Visiting the ER: Wolves in Nasty Garbage Clothing

Posted on Mon Jul 15th, 2024 @ 10:22pm by Hale Stratton & Ragnar Jørgensen & Timothy Reynolds & René Rouen & Vienna Quinn & Chloé Rouen
Edited on on Tue Jul 16th, 2024 @ 4:03am

2,380 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Winter is Coming
Location: Maine General Medical Center, Augusta, Maine
Timeline: September 7, 2010 - 06:00 a.m.

[Waiting Room, Emergency Room]

Chloé sat huddled in a corner of the waiting area with her grand-père and their suitcases and bags. She was watching everyone around them, scared people, huddled in pairs or family groups.

Henri paged through a magazine as he sat with Chloé. They had been coming there nearly every day to help out around the hospital since the evacuation of Bangor more than a week ago. He glanced up and gave Chloé a concerned look. "Is every thing alright little one? You seem restless."

She looked at him. "Arent you scared grand-père? We may never see our family again and who knows what has happened to Rene"

"We will find him or he us." Henri placed a hand gently on Chloé's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. "There's not that many French exchange students or tourists in Maine and word travels fast. Remember the family that stopped in last night. The son said he had seen René a few days ago in Bangor and that the last group of folks was being evacuated night before last."

Chloé nodded but she was not 100% confident. "It is hard to wait" she replied.

Henri nodded. He too was anxious to find René. "We must have patience and Faith. Your brother has always been resourceful." He looked to the deserted nurse's station. "It's possible he arrived last after we went to lodgings. Let's go check."

Chloé stood almost like she was a spring. "I can go," she said. "You rest here."

Henri stood up along his granddaughter. "I may be getting on in years little one, but I am not dead yet. We shall both go."

The teenager led her grandfather to the desk and looked around, spotting a nurse she politely raised her hand to get the woman's attention.

The nurse came over, looking tired and stressed. "Yes?"

Taking a breath, and in her basic English, the teen said "We... were.. hoping that.. there is news... of my brother, Rene Rouen?"

The nurse looked down at the list and began scanning the names. "No Sorry that name is not on our listing at all."

Henri was thoughtful for a moment. He turned to Chloé. "Perhaps we should head to the dormitory for a while. Maybe get some food from the commissary. What do you say little one?"

Chloé nodded, she did not correct him on his use of little one, she was 15 after all. "okay."

The hospital had been under going a change, bit by bit, since the National Guard had arrived. Areas of the hospital were being shut down so that patients and family could be centrally located. All in the name of better security of course and in some respects, that was true. The building was too large to guard successfully. Sleeping areas were now off limits as was the cafeteria, though, truth be told, there was very little in the way of food to be had.

But they were denied entry and returned to their corner with the others. Chloé frowned as they sat back down. Something was not sitting right with her.

Ragnar Jorgensen, dressed in a rugged pair of black leather breeches and a doeskin tunic came into the ER toting a large duffel over one shoulder. He slowly walked over to a chair not far from Henri and Chloé but didn’t greet them, instead just settling into a seat and stowing his duffel underneath. There was a cloth bandage over his bicep that was showing a line of blood that had seeped through it.

A security guard, one of the few left in the emergency room, walked over, surprised that the man had made it through the barricades without being stopped, stopped a few feet away, one hand on his weapon. "Are you carrying any weapons," he asked.

“None that aren’t secured without me being able to easily access them.” Came his reply, his icy gaze settling on the guards face. “I’ve only come to see if I can get my arm stitched up better than I was able to, I mean no harm.”

Come this way then," the guard said. "You can take your weapons with you but, if they're on your person, you'll have to put them to one side. Strip down and put on a hospital gown. The nurse will be along shortly."

Ragnar nodded and glanced to Chloe and her grandfather nearby and stepped toward them after picking up his duffel bag. “Excuse me… but would the two of you mind keeping an eye on this for me?”

Henri looked at Ragnar for a moment before answering. He nodded. He pointed to a couple of chairs with a small table between them. "We'll be over there when you are done Monsieur." He glanced at Chloé. "Chloé, if you would take the man's bag s'il te plaît."

Chloé nodded and placed the bag beside theirs. She was curious but she didn't say anything. She wondered if he would be ok.

After relinquishing the bag to them Ragnar turned to the guard and motioned for him to lead the way, falling into step half a pace behind.

[Meanwhile ...[

Roman Quinn, dressed in scrubs and a white coat, washed his hands in a basin and looked around for the next patient. That's how it had been in what felt like forever. One patient after another with very short breaks for a nap and he couldn't remember how long it had been since he had anything to eat. "Any more," he asked Jeanine, one of the only E.R. nurses remaining. She shook her head and he nodded. "I'll be in the residents' lounge then. Wake me ..."

Jeanine, graying blonde hair pulled up into an untidy bun on the top of her head, nodded. "I'll be napping here at the desk," she said. "Go. You've been on your feet longer than me and it's quiet for now. I'll see if I can scrounge up something to eat."

"I hear Melendez took a chair to the vending machine. There might be something left in it," Roman said, smothering a yawn with the back of his hands. "Failing that, coffee. Residents run on caffeine, you know."

Jeanine laughed and shooed him toward what served as the resident's lounge, a place to catch a nap, do research, and visit their own private stashes, squirreled away in lockers. Yawning openly now, Roman headed into the lounge and found an open cot. Felt good to be horizontal. His eyes drifted shut almost immediately, an art he perfected in Med School. Sleep when you can. As fast as you can.

[Nearing the Medical Center]

Serena drove behind Hale's truck, letting him guide the way. She was jumpy and she kept a death grip on the steering wheel.

Tim kept an eagle eye out the windows, looking for any sign of danger in the surrounding area. As he looked over to Serena, he saw how she was holding the steering wheel. He leaned over and placed his left hand gently over her right. "Easy, love. If you grip too tightly, you'll actually have less control in an emergency." His voice was calm and full of care. "Just hold the wheel normally, sweetheart."

Her grip relaxed slowly but her attention remained focused.

Sitting in the other car, Vienna was looking out of the window as they drove. She had butterflies in the pit of her stomach at the thought of seeing her brother after so long. She just hoped she wasn’t in line for more disappointment or heartache.

Hale, with Ethan riding shotgun and Vienna in the back, signaled to Tim to pull over a short distance from the Medical Center's driveway. He waited, while Serena pulled in and then walked over to the passenger side. "I'm thinking we should have a quick look before we bring everyone in."

Timothy nodded, grabbing his shotgun. As he had given his pistol to Serena for the trip, he would use the street sweeper, as he was more comfortable with it than she was. Currently, he had it loaded with five shells of buckshot, with five slugs in the sling and ten more shells on his belt. Short of a major engagement, he felt it was the best he could do, while still being able to move quickly. He had left his bow at the cabin for two reasons. One, Vienna had hers, and two, given how the undead seemed to congregate, he felt the shotgun was a better bet.

"Alright." He got out of the truck, bringing the shotgun to his shoulder, though he kept the barrel pointed towards the ground. He looked over at Serena. "We'll be right back. If things go sideways, you and Vienna and Ethan should pull out to a safe distance." He gave her his military look. "Promise me."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "I promise" She said though she would break it if she could.

Knowing his wife as he did, Timothy could feel that she wanted to roll her eyes at him. There was nothing he could do to actually stop her for doing what she felt was the right thing to do. He would just have to trust that she would do whatever was needed to get back to Patrick.

Turning back to Hale, he spoke. "Let's get it done."

Hale stopped by his vehicle and leaned in through the driver's window, "Vienna, you get behind the wheel. If something happens, if we don't come back or you feel threatened in any way, head back to the cabin with Ethan. We're going to take a quick look around and then we'll be back. If its safe, then we'll all go in."

“Me?” Vienna nodded, though her driving skills were limited to quick runs in her father’s jeep when they were off the main road. She didn’t even have a license.

Serena got out of the blazer and watched the pair depart.

There wasn't anything in the way of cover available. Just broad sweeping lawns and a wide drive that led into the hospital parking lot . As they approached, they could see the main entrance, with a pair of uniformed guards at the entrance.

"Those look like MP uniforms," Tim said quietly to Hale. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his combat sense warning him that something was amiss. "Something ain't right." He discreetly took the mossberg off safe. "Those unit patches look like Maine nasty garbage, but even they are trained better then that." He nodded to the two men, both seemingly unaware of the approach of two, visibly armed, men.

"I'm surprised they're still here," Hale said. "Back the Safe Zone, if they weren't regular military, they had a tendency to disappear. So why do these guys stay?" He sighed. "We could walk away, you know. This doesn't have to be our fight."

Tim paused, wishing he had his sniper rifle, instead of the Mossberg. Taking a quick knee behind a wreaked police van, he quickly, and quietly unloaded the buckshot from the shotgun. He then reloaded the slugs, as he looked at Hale. "It is too soon in this new world for big groups to be together. Those two are probably the only shooters." He took another quick look at the entrance, to gauge the distance, then knelt back down. "If I can get a few more meters closer, ten at the most, I should be able to pop em both. Think you can distract them long enough?"

Hale tucked his SIG in his waistband, covered down by his top, as he smiled. "Well, there's always the direct approach. Just don't shoot me."

"Wouldn't think of it," Timothy replied with a grin. "You still owe me fifty bucks, from that poker night before we both went on leave."

"You cheated and," Hale said over his shoulder, "you never paid for the pizza you ordered." Laughing, he adopted a round-shouldered, casual walk. When you worked on the teams, you learned a bit about fitting in, going unnoticed. He walked in a straight line, hands clearly visible, drawing the attention of the two guards as intended. They brought their guns up but held them loosely, not braced against the shoulder. Interesting, he thought. Definitely not professional. He ran his hand through his hair, directing their attention as he signaled Tim to fire at will. "Morning," he said, appearing timid and almost reluctant to approach. "I'm looking for my girl friend, Maggie Mae. She was ... uh ... going to meet me here?"

As Hale moved closer to the hospital entrance, Timothy melted into the cover along the approach. While he wasn't the best sniper in the world - he had ranked in the top ten percent, during that last competition he had attended - he did have a seemingly preternatural skill into becoming one with his environment.

Getting to within sixty yards, he was more to the guards' nine o'clock position an, when he saw the signal from Hale, stood, his shotgun tucking into his shoulder and he loosed two rounds in less that three seconds, putting both guards on the ground permanently. One had the back of his head separated from his body, and the other, the top of his head was just gone.

They weren't NGs, that much was clear. Nobody wore expensive sneakers with a uniform and the weapons were flashy more than functional. Once they dropped, Hale approached and went through their pockets. A handful of jewelry in suspicious guard #1's pocket and in #2's, a walkie talkie which Hale waved at Tim as he approached. "I'm thinking they're stolen uniforms or they've really lowered their standards."

Though he lowered the barrel of the shotgun, Timothy kept it tucked into his shoulder. He split his attention between the approach to the hospital and the main entrance, as he listened. "I just hope the uniforms were taken from a brother or sister. Nasty garbage or not, they're still family at the end of the day." He heard some glass break, inside the entrance, and he turned to face it, bringing up the barrel of the shotgun, scanning the darkened foyer.

 

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