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"Mom?" I took her hand gingerly. It was warm.
"She can't hear you," the nurse told me.
"I know, but..." I broke off. There were raised voices down the hall, coming our way.
"No, you can not interview the family!" was the only phrase I heard clearly, then a man came around the corner. There was a nurse arguing with him, but I barely saw her.
It was him. The killer.
I stared at Mom, not letting my eyes meet his. All I could think of was what would happen if he pulled out a gun and started shooting right now.
"What do you think you're doing?" Dr. Harkness spoke behind me, sounding angry.
"I just want to interview the family, Doc, see if the kid knows why her mother got shot." The gunman's voice was as ordinary as his face.
"That's the most outrageous--haven't you reporters got any compassion?" Dr. Harkness demanded. "Or common sense? Orderly, take Mrs. White to I.C.U. Come on, Miss White." He took my arm as the orderly started to move Mom's stretcher.
I glanced up and for just an instant my eyes met the killer's. It was long enough. He grinned, a nasty grin, and reached out to the I.V. stand. I didn't know what it would do to Mom if he pulled out those tubes, but I didn't want to find out. Before he could grab them, I screamed, "Killer! He's the killer!" and I turned and ran down the hall.
There was a crash behind me as I ran. Dr. Harkness yelled something, and the orderly was swearing. I looked back as I reached the door of the Trauma Unit. The gunman was running toward me. Behind him, Mom's stretcher had been knocked over. I couldn't tell how she was, but she'd be safer if he was chasing me. I turned around again and pushed through the swinging door.
Another orderly was pushing an empty bed toward the door; I nearly tripped over it as I ran through.
"Hey, watch what you're..." I ignored him and shoved the bed through the doors as hard as I could, then turned and ran down the hall.
There were more yells behind me now. I turned down another corridor, looking for the stairs to the ground floor and the side entrance. My feet slipped as I turned the corner, and I barely managed to keep from falling on my face. One of those little yellow Caution--Wet Floors signs was in the middle of the hall, and a janitor with a mop. He shouted at me to stop.
Instead I grabbed his mop. He had one of those big buckets on wheels and I pushed it with my foot back in the direction I'd come. The killer came around the corner just as the bucket slopped about a gallon of soapy water on the floor. I threw the mop at him, stringy end first. It caught him full in the face, and he tripped over the bucket. I turned and ran again. The stairs were at the end of the hall.
I never realized hospitals had so many doors. The one leading to the stairwell was heavy, but I didn't dare try to block it. From the swearing and shouting, the killer had broken away from the janitor and was after me again. I went down the stairs so fast I'm not sure I touched them on the way down.
The side entrance was there at the bottom. I went out at a dead run. Behind me, on the stairs, I could hear the killer.
Greg was parked a few feet away from the door, the motor running. I screamed, "Greg!" and threw myself into the front seat just as the killer came out the door behind me.