Sandra had never outright lied well, but fudging the truth was easier. She got two coffees and a tea—disgusting teabag—in foam cups, and paid for them. The cashier, a perky but suspicious dark-skinned woman said, “I haven’t seen you three before.”
“And I hope you never see us again,” Sandra said, sounding grouchy. She glanced at the woman’s nametag, “Shaniqua. I’m Sandra. They sent us over here to finish out our shifts. There was so much damage to our unit,” she nodded in the general direction of the main building, “when the students went nuts, we had to vacate our area so it can be inspected.”
The young woman’s eyes brightened, and she leaned in. That turned her back to the access panel and Mable jumped up to open the small metal door. In the confidential tone used by all excellent gossips, Shaniqua said, “I heard things exploded in the parking lot, the kitchen caught on fire, and the windows busted.”
“All true and worse.”
Shaniqua’s eyes lit up just like a churchwoman hearing prime gossip.
Sandra lowered her voice. “Giiiirl, I kid you not. Two cars were melted to slag. A dozen others were damaged. The Sevens’ insurance is good for it, but what a pain for the car owners, you know?” Sandra added blueberry muffins to the coffees and the tea. Mable was still working. “Plus,” Sandra said, “a plumbing pipe busted and some of the dorms don’t have water or power, so the place is now in lockdown. Or it was until the automatic doors opened and some of the residents got lose . . .”
“Da-yam. What started it?”
“That cheap excuse for lemon cream pie they served. Some old woman got mad and started inciting to riot.” Sandra stopped, remembering the scene in the dining room. “I never thought I’d see anything like it. Pottery bustin’, plastic stuff turned into dirt, the safety windows cracked, some fires started,the students were screaming and attacking . . .” She brought her attention back to the cashier and handed her a twenty. “It was kinda scary.”
Mable sat back down and gave her a thumbs up.
“I bet,” Shaniqua said, making change. “The old folk we get over here are brain-dead so we don’t have to worry about them attacking us. Safer, you know?”
Sandra nodded. “I’m just working a contract here, but after this, maybe I should think about a transfer. They said it could take as much as two more hours to complete the inspection of our unit, so they sent our supervisor over with some work she can do here.” She nodded at Mable and lowered her voice even more. “I wanted to go home with pay, but you know how they are. Our supervisor told us to check in with the director of nursing and get put to work here. But I’m getting a coffee break first, you know?”
“Yep. Like, ‘You on the clock? You stand there even if the dining room be empty.’ Like my legs don’t ache.”
“Preaching to the choir.” They fist bumped and Sandra went back to the table. The three drank bad coffee and weak tea, ate stale muffins, and murmured quiet platitudes and nonsense as Mable worked. While they chitchatted, Sandra repeated the discussion with Shaniqua. She hadn’t told a single lie, and yet she hadn’t told the full truth either. This must be the way politicians got their start. Innocent falsehoods. Sandra was equally horrified and smug that she had pulled it off.
Fifteen minutes later, Mable muttered, “Got several possible choices that fit with the MTT’s coordinates. Rooms 410, 413, 501, and 506 all seem to be newly activated.” She flapped her hand at them and said loud enough for Shaniqua to hear. “Go. Check in at fourth and fifth floors. I’ll be here working.”
Sandra and Marvin stood and made their way out the door into the hallway. Quietly, Sandra said to Marvin, “I’ll takefour. Be careful.” Marvin nodded and headed to the elevators. Sandra took the stairs. In her pockets were two of Marvin’s Invader devices, assorted pens, and a single fob that would alert Mable if there was trouble. Mable could kick butt if she got in a tight spot and Marvin was a big guy. He could likely get away. Short of turning attackers into emus, Sandra was helpless. But she was going todosomething this time, and not sit on her behind and do nothing. Not anymore.
Marvin
Marvin stood just inside the unit’s doors, watching. Every person was pushing a little portable computer cart around, eyes on their screens, fingers tapping. The woman behind the desk was probably the charge nurse and she was either really busy or was avoiding making eye contact with her nursing personnel. Marvin was betting the latter.
He grabbed an empty cart and swiped his ID card into the reader. It came on and his name appeared at the top. Well, part of his name. Marvin, but Marvin Finklehopper, RN. He grinned at the name. Finklehopper was a frog in some children’s books. Mable was trying to make him laugh. Confidently, he pushed the cart down the hallway, and not one person looked his way. His old training in the Marines still paid off, every damn day.
He entered room 501 and closed the door behind himself.
Sandra
Sandra found their client in room 410. Franzen Rubin Van Dijk was lying on his left side, facing the door. The cables that harvested his magical energies were plugged into a neurological port on the back of his head, much like someone had said during the riot in the dining room. The movie with the guy who did theinternet stuff in virtual reality. What’s his name. The guy from the movie “Speed”. She and Harold had really liked that movie. That guy had been fantastic.
Franzen did not look like the guy in the virtual reality movie, except for his port. The back of his skull had been fitted with a black plastic disc, into which three small wires were plugged, and the wires were looped on a large hook behind his head, before they disappeared into the wall. Franz looked like a weathered, starving old man, hairless, his skin so smooth over his bones, it was shining. He had a feeding tube, a catheter, and two IVs. And his breath, through open lips and his slack mouth, smelled yeasty.
Sandra plugged in the Invader linkage nodule to an empty electrical outlet, turned it on, and waited for the little light on the side to turn green. Green meant Mable had recognized the device down in the break room, and was busy turning down the drugs that were keeping Franz comatose. She was also monitoring the client’s vitals. They couldn’t just turn off the drugs. Withdrawal would be a horror. But they could start weaning the patient off.
He had been missing for over six weeks. He had a port in the back of his skull. Franzen was in a bad way.
Sandra left the room.
Room 413 was one of the people from Table J. Her name was Beulah Mae Ettinger, a tan black woman with weaves in her hair. Sandra plugged in her small device, waited until it lit up green, and left the room without incident, taking the stairs fast, to the fifth floor. That had to be where Dani was.
Marvin
Marvin was hard to miss, tending to stand out in a crowd. So, when he stepped into room 501 unobserved, he whooshed outa huge sigh of relief. He shoved his nurse rolling cart-laptop-stand-thing into the corner and plugged in his little tracker Invader and watched the tiny green light come on. Mable had recognized the device and was doing her thing.
He had invested his earnings from the recycling contract in a variety of startups, and the MTT had already made him a fortune. Now it was going to help TriDevi rescue a lot of people. The press from a rescue would make him even richer.
The man in the bed, eyes closed, breathing steadily, was Buck Hackenmeister, the man who supposedly went missing yesterday. He didn’t have a port in his head yet, but he was out cold. Buck had turned his wife into a boa constrictor. Poor guy. Though Marvin could have used that talent when his second wife divorced him. She was a snake through and through, and the poetic justice would have been perfect.
