Excerpt of On The Run

"If it be possible, as much as lieth in you,
live peaceably with all men."
Romans 12:18

Chapter One


"Code Silver. All personnel, be advised, we have a Code Silver."
The male voice blaring over the PA system sounded a lot calmer than Janie Kirkpatrick felt. In the three years she'd been an Emergency room nurse she'd never encountered a code silver except as a drill. Now, she was staring down the barrel of a real handgun, the object of the hospital's cryptic warning. It didn't matter that this firearm wasn't actually silver, the threat was frighteningly clear.

Senses heightened beyond belief, Janie masked her fear and faced the three rough-looking men who had delivered a wounded fourth to the ER and laid him out on a gurney. "You can put the gun away," she said. "We'll care for your friend the same way we would any patient."

When the oldest of the four gestured with the pistol in his meaty hand she suppressed a shudder.

"Then get to it," he said. "Tim's bleedin' out."

Where was a doctor? Where were the other nurses? Janie wished she could see through the privacy curtains that had been pulled around that small treatment area to close it off.

The tallest of the four men shouldered forward and cautiously placed his hand across the top of the pistol. "Hey, if you scare her too bad she won't be worth a hoot, Boss." His voice was deep with just a hint of gruffness.

The leader jerked the gun away, then aimed it directly at Janie. She could tell he was near the end of what little patience he'd had to begin with. Her knees weakened. She began to perspire despite the air-conditioning. "Please..."

The tall man stepped closer to her and spoke quietly. "You'll be fine. I suggest you let me cut Tim's clothes away from his wound while you check his vitals. Blood pressure's probably low. He was shot a couple of hours ago and I haven't been able to stop the bleeding. That's why we brought him here."

Eyes wide, Janie stared at the stranger towering over her five-foot-three inch height. Strong, dark-haired and a healthy thirty-something, he looked more like a renegade than a medic thanks to long hair, a scruffy, unshaven chin and worn denim clothing, yet he seemed to have useful knowledge.

As her blue eyes momentarily connected with his somber gaze she searched in vain for a flicker of anything that would tell her whether or not she might have found an ally.

Using her stethoscope she listened to the moaning patient's heartbeat and breathing, then spoke to her possible helper. "I'm getting a fast pulse. Lung sounds are not good. BP is low. He may be bleeding into the pleural cavity, too."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of," the man murmured as he cut away the last of the patient's shirt and dropped the pieces on the floor. "You want to start an IV?"

"I was about to."

The armed man interrupted. "Get a move on."

Janie had been proceeding cautiously. Now that she had at least one aide who seemed halfway normal she regained more of her usual professional air. Hands fisted on her hips, shoulders back, she said, "Look, mister. This will all go a lot faster if you stop pointing that stupid gun at me."

"Then quit stalling," the man ordered. "I know what you're doin'. You're waitin' for the cops to get here. Well, I'm not falling for it." He motioned to the man who had been assisting her. "Let's go, Brad. You're done playin' doctor."

"I'll stay a little longer. You guys go."

"Nothin' doing. Either you're one of us or you're not."

The man's - Brad's - eyes locked on Janie's. She could tell he was trying to communicate something but had no idea what it might be. Did he expect her to read his mind?

"You can go," she said, feigning calmness. "I can start the IV by myself."

"What if he arrests?"

"Then I'll call a code blue and somebody will show up with a crash cart."

"Will they?" Brad's glance darted to the speaker in the ceiling.

So, she thought, he knows what our code means. That might or might not be a good sign. Where was hospital Security? Why didn't she hear any sirens? Had so little time actually elapsed that it was too soon to expect backup?

Despite the strongest willpower she possessed, she couldn't stop trembling. A needle needed to go into this patient's vein but her hand was shaking too much to insert it properly. The thugs didn't seem to notice but Brad did.

His warm, firm grip on her wrist convinced her to pass the catheter needle to him. Relinquishing control was an unacceptable action for a licensed, trained nurse but at that moment she saw no other alternative. If the patient's blood pressure dropped much lower it would be next to impossible to find a viable vein. If she couldn't find one, somebody had to.

"Hey, lady, what do you think you're doing?" the elder thug shouted. "Get back to work!"

"I am. I..."

He was on her in a heartbeat and because Brad was concentrating on starting the IV there was no one standing ready to defend her.

A meaty hand closed on her arm. Pain shot up to her shoulder as Janie was jerked off her feet and thrown across the cubicle. Her upper back hit a metal supply cart and sent it rolling and rattling through the open space at the bottom of the privacy curtains. She'd had patients abuse her before but they had been delusional due to medication or disease. This man, these men, were just like her older brothers had been. Cruel to the bone. Well, they weren't going to best her.

Pushing off the floor with both hands, Janie stumbled to her feet. Everything hurt. Her head was spinning. By the time she was fully erect, however, anger had dulled the pain. Nobody was going to treat her that way anymore. Nobody.

Painful memories rushed to surface. Memories of abuse and tears and wondering if she was worthy of any life at all. As soon as she'd been old enough to manage alone she'd fled her mean-spirited siblings and had learned self-defense, putting herself through nursing school by teaching other women how to physically fight back. Now, it was high time to employ those skills herself.

She didn't strike a Karate pose or shout, she simply braced herself and waited for one or more of the men to come after her. The gunman gestured for his youngest cohort to attack. Janie watched his eyes narrow before he began to smile and start toward her.

Meeting the wiry man's lunge with a sidestep she reached out, grabbed his closest arm, ducked under it and flipped him onto his back without difficulty. He hit the floor with a thud and a splat, then lay there, stunned, while Janie stepped out of his reach and readied for another assault. Her eyes swept the cubicle assessing her adversaries. The prostrate thug would soon recover and get up, she knew, but her immediate concern was the armed, older man. The one they'd called boss.

Roaring, he brought the gun to bear on her body and took dead aim at her heart.

Janie froze, too far from the armed man to use her skills and positive any such moves would cause him to shoot.

Brad charged into the fray from behind, striking the boss's outstretched arm and sending the gun sliding across the floor.

That changed everything. Janie whirled. Assessed. Decided. The wiry one she'd flipped was regaining his wits and crawling toward the weapon! There was no time to run closer and kick it away so she dove in that direction, landing atop her prostrate enemy.

His longer arms reached the cold metal first. Janie clasped his wrist with both hands. He flipped her onto her back yet she held fast. They rolled together, grappling for the gun. Janie's arms were shorter but strong. If she failed to gain control she knew she was in deep trouble.

Training made her continue to hold his wrist with all her strength. She got her knees under her first, shouted hoarsely, then threw her whole weight behind the effort to bend it back. As long as she kept holding him at an angle that kept the gun's muzzle pointing away from her she'd be okay.

He screamed in agony but he didn't let go. Neither did she.

Less than ten feet away, the boss was being restrained by her unexpected cohort, Brad, so no help was coming to quickly aid the thug with his finger on the trigger.

Frantic to hold on, Janie leaned into the defensive grip. Heard the pop of dislocating joints as ligaments and tendons in his wrist let go. Empathetically sharing his pain, her stomach clenched.

The man shrieked.

Janie was thrown off balance. She fell against him, the gun pressed between their bodies. He outweighed her by at least fifty pounds which gave him a leverage advantage.

His acrid breath was hot on her face. She closed her eyes and reacted instinctively, slamming her forehead into his nose.

The gun jerked, firing. There was a deafening bang!

Everyone in the cubicle hit the floor.