Open Season by Cameron Curtis (great novels TXT) 📕

“Do something.”

The woman clenches her right hand into a fist and punches her middle knuckle into Robyn’s chest. “Come on, hon. Wake up.”

Robyn grunts.

The woman grinds her knuckle into Robyn’s breastbone. Hard enough to hurt. Robyn grimaces, tries to push the woman’s hand away.

Relieved, I allow myself to breathe.

“Help me,” the nurse says. “Walk her around.”

I grab one of Robyn’s arms. The nurse takes the other. Together, we haul Robyn to her feet.

This nurse is used to giving orders. “Let’s get her outside.”

“Come on, Robyn,” I say. “Walk.”

Robyn tries to walk, but the effort is a lousy imitation. She’s hanging off us, shuffling and dragging her feet. She slumps. Her chin drops to her chest.

“Wake the fuck up.” The Latina twists her fist in Robyn’s hair and jerks the girl’s head back.

“Stop it,” Robyn howls. “You’re hurting me.”

“That’s better, hon.” The woman gives me a triumphant look. “Every day above ground is a good day.”

General Anthony stands at the foot of Robyn’s hospital bed. Stares at her with a mixture of relief and frustration. Koenig and I stand on either side. Her doctor, an Air Force colonel, stands on my side, at the head of the bed. Robyn is conscious, but wan and quiet.

“Our flight to DC leaves in five hours,” the general explains. “Surely she is stable enough to travel.”

The colonel studies Robyn’s chart and makes a note. “I can’t support that, General.”

“Why not? She’s recovered from the overdose.”

“The good news is the tox screen is positive for morphine. That means we’ve given her the correct treatment. But—she’s not stable. We gave her two doses of naloxone. An opioid antagonist. Its effects are temporary. When it wears off, she could slip into another morphine coma. In my opinion, she needs to remain under professional medical observation for a minimum of twelve hours.”

The general looks ready to explode. Stein’s management gave him a schedule. A deadline by which to get Robyn to Washington. For his part, the doctor looks prepared to stand his ground.

“Colonel,” General Anthony says, “I can order you to release this woman.”

“I can refuse to obey, General. You can court-martial me and find another doctor. I’ll take my chances.”

The two men are glaring at each other. This will not end well.

I have to find an off-ramp. “May I suggest something.”

“What is it, Breed?” the general snaps.

“I think the doctor would agree risk declines with the passage of time. I suggest we push the flight to noon tomorrow. The rotation of the earth will work in our favor. We’ll arrive in DC with time to spare. For the doctor’s part, perhaps a trained nurse or doctor could accompany Sergeant Trainor on the flight. With the appropriate medication and equipment.”

The general and the doctor stare at me.

“This is a matter of grave national importance,” I say. “Sergeant Trainor’s health is paramount. We can find a way to make this work.”

“I can live with that,” the doctor says. “I’ll select the medical staff for the flight.”

“I don’t like it,” Anthony snorts. “But I will live with it.”

The general turns on his heel to leave. “Breed, I want to see you and Captain Koenig outside. Right now.”

I watch Anthony and Koenig leave the room. Turn to the doctor and smile. “You got your twelve hours, Doctor. And more.”

“I thought he would try to split the difference,” the doctor says.

“No. It’ll be alright.”

Robyn stares at me. Her complexion is ashen, and there are dark circles under her eyes. “It was Lopez all the time,” she says.

“Yes. And it wasn’t the first time he tried to kill you.”

Robyn looks shocked.

“Think about it,” I tell her. “It will all come clear. Now, I need to speak with the general. I’ll be back.”

The general and Koenig are standing in a waiting room. Standing by a row of vending machines.

“What’s going on, Breed? Lopez was one of ours, and he tried to kill our principal.”

“Yes, Sir. What’s more, he was busy at it the whole time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can point to four incidents.” I tick them off on my fingers. “The first was when Takigawa and I rescued Colonel Grissom at the village. We were making our escape, climbing the stairs. Lopez and Captain Koenig were providing cover from the terrace above. In the firefight, it was easy for Lopez to take aim and shoot Colonel Grissom. Head shots are no sure thing. Miss by a couple of inches and you get a grazing hit. That’s what Lopez scored. Grissom was injured, but not killed.”

Koenig protests. “I saw nothing.”

“Not a surprise. We all know NODs restrict your vision. You were focused on your own targets. You couldn’t be expected to watch Lopez.”

“Dear God,” the general breathes.

“It gets better, Sir. Second, Lopez pushed Colonel Grissom off the cliff. Lopez was the medic, he was the man we expected to safeguard the colonel. Instead, when the colonel stumbled onto the promontory, Lopez helped him over the side. Sergeant Trainor suspected the whole time. But—none of us were sure what we saw.

“Third, during the ambush at the village, someone shot Sergeant Trainor in the back. Her rear plate saved her life. I remember at the time, thinking it was either a great shot, or dumb luck. Lopez was rear guard at the time. From Lopez’s position, it was an easy shot. Like the one he took at Colonel Grissom. Grissom was coming straight at him, Trainor moving away. In both cases—zero deflection.

“Finally, tonight. Trainor is on her way to DC, and this is Lopez’s last chance to kill her. He doesn’t want to get caught. He doesn’t want to use a gun or a knife. He wants to slip her something that will give him plenty of time to get away. Be somewhere else before she is found dead. Morphine is tricky. People react differently to it depending on their height, weight, and overall constitution. To use one nurse’s words, he gave her enough to drop a horse. He hoped to leave unnoticed. Trainor would