The Collector

Dr Chris Harrison walked the length of the long corridor that led from the canteen back to the rooms functioning as an operating room and recovery room. Despite his mockery of Dr Fielding expecting a Zone hospital to have an OR, he hadn’t long escaped from BLI himself and he was fully aware of the huge discrepancy in the quality of life beyond Battery City’s walls. He only had to compare the pristine, sterile and fully equipped and stocked hospital environment he had left behind with the crumbling ruin of a hospital he was currently walking through. All along the dusty corridor, signage was either missing, broken or partially attached. Lighting was minimal to preserve bulbs for the essential rooms. It was impossible to keep even part of a place this size clean without an army of staff dedicated to doing just that. As a result, the walls and floor were caked in grime that had built over a number of years and cracked tiles and flaking paint went unrepaired. The plumbing was, in Harrison’s opinion, probably the most shocking element for a hospital. Although in Zone One, the running water could generally be used, it was not considered satisfactory for use in a hospital and every last drop first had to be boiled before use. It made every stage of treatment that much more difficult. Water was precious and had to be used sparingly.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked, Harrison almost dropped the plate as a man’s voice disturbed him from his daydream.

“Well, well, Dr Harrison.”

Harrison’s head snapped up in horror at the sound of Exterminator Korse’s voice. Stepping from an adjoining corridor, the BLI exterminator sneered as he saw the fearful expression on the doctor’s face.

“I was assured that you were dead, doctor. Now then.” He stepped forward, flanked by two draculoids, crowding the doctor and watched with satisfaction as he pressed his back against the wall. “How is it that you are not?”
“I-I...” he stammered, terror taking his words from him.
“Yes?” Korse pressed a hand to the doctor’s chest, pushing him firmly against the wall. The terror on the man’s face spoke volumes; Korse didn’t even need to raise his gun to scare him.
“I bribed the guard,” Harrison finally gasped.
“Did you, indeed?” Korse frowned. “Well, that will be the last thing that guard ever does. Where are you going with that plate?”
“It... it’s my lunch,” he lied. “I’m taking it to my office.”
“Where is your office?”
“It’s down there,” he replied quietly, waving an arm in the general direction of the corridor.
“You’re lying to me, doctor,” Korse pressed. “Why are you lying to me?”
“I... I’m not...”
“Where are you going with that food?” Korse spoke harshly, but kept his volume low.
“I...” Harrison gasped, his terror increasing as Korse raised his gun and pressed it into the hollow underneath his jaw.
“Let me put it another way,” Korse tilted his head and offered a cruel smile. “Where are the Killjoys?”
“Will you let me live?” He asked, his resolve collapsing.
“Of course... if you also tell me where Dr Fielding is.”
“She’s in the canteen with Dr Hawes and two of the Killjoys.”
“Which two?” Korse growled.
“I don’t know their names,” Harrison replied barely seconds after Korse had posed the question.
“Describe them.”
“Tall, skinny kid in a red jacket and a guy with roughly shoulder-length curly hair,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“And the other two?”
“In the recovery room.”
“Injured?”
“One is,” he nodded. “The short guy. The red haired one is with him.”
“And you were taking the food to him?”

Harrison nodded; it didn’t seem worth lying now.

“Where is the girl?”
“I was told she’s outside, on watch.”
“Outside where?”
“At the front entrance.”

Korse stepped backwards, nodding his satisfaction.

“You,” he addressed one of the draculoids, “find the girl.”
“Dead or alive, sir?”
“Alive, if possible.”
“Sir,” the draculoid stood to attention briefly before heading toward the main entrance.
“You,” he pointed at Harrison, “put the plate down and show me where the recovery room is.”

Shoving Harrison in front of him, Korse followed him down the corridor with the two remaining draculoids.

*

Jet checked the time and frowned, his brow knit with concern. Looking up, he noticed that he shared the same expression with Kobra and it was simply a matter of who was to speak first.
“Harrison’s taking his time, isn’t he?” Jet turned to look at the door, several yards away, in case they were returning as he spoke.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Kobra replied. “It’s not that far.”

Jet nodded and pushed his chair back.

“I’m...” he paused to fish for the right word to describe how he felt. “...uneasy,” he finally concluded.
“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Hawes waved a fork and shook his head. “If there was anything wrong, you’d know about it by now.”

Jet and Kobra glanced urgently at each other as the same thought occurred to them - nobody had bothered to let Red know that they had moved to the canteen. It wasn’t the largest hospital, but if something had happened, she had no way to find them. Each of the Killjoys could keep in touch with each other using the radios attached to their belts, but Red didn’t have that luxury; she was on her own.

“Come on,” Jet said, pushing his seat further back, earning a definitive nod from Kobra.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Hawes asked, his face displaying a sceptical expression.
“So what?” Asked Kobra over his shoulder as the pair headed briskly toward the door to the canteen.
“He’s got a point,” Fielding shrugged. “These guys haven’t stayed alive this long by thinking things will probably be okay.”
“So, what do you think?” Hawes asked. “Something’s wrong? Korse is back?”
“Korse was here? You saw him?” Fielding’s eyes widened.
“I spoke to him,” Hawes replied, surprised by the question. “Didn’t Harrison tell you?”
“When?”
“When he went back to find you after the explosion.”
“If he did, I didn’t take it in. I was too concerned about keeping Ghoul alive. What did you tell him?”
“I told him that you and the Killjoys left ten minutes before he arrived,” Hawes replied, still quite proud of his acting ability.
“He’s not going to believe that!” Fielding gasped.
“I watched him go,” Hawes objected. “He was a dot on the horizon when I came back in,”
“He’s tracking the porno droid!”
“What porno droid?” Hawes frowned with confusion.
“She helped me get Party out of BLI. She took the car to lead them away from us, but it was about an hour earlier. He’ll know I’m still here.”
“Then he’ll know the Killjoys are too,” Hawes paled at the idea. “We’ve got to warn them.”

The two doctors rose almost simultaneously and ran for the door, Hawes trailing behind his much younger counterpart.

*

Red had made it back to the hospital’s reception area without incident but knew she had to keep as quiet as possible. She knew the scarecrows where in the hospital somewhere, just not exactly where. It was also possible that they had split up to cover ground more quickly and make it difficult for them all to know their numbers. The minimum number was four and probably no more than six, depending on how many were in the car, but it was always possible that they may have called for backup from another nearby patrol - there were always some riding around Zone 1.

Ducking behind the reception desk once more, she began to search for anything that might resemble a radio or public address system of any kind. A radio would be preferable, she could tune directly to Kobra or Jet’s frequencies and maintain secrecy, but even a hospital-wide announcement from a supposed member of staff was better than nothing.

As she crouched behind the desk, she heard slow footsteps. It was the sort of sound that let her know that someone was trying to minimise the noise they were making, but was unable to move completely soundless on the vinyl flooring. There was a remote possibility that Jet and Kobra, or even Party had realised something was wrong, but it was more likely the sound of a draculoid searching for them. At least, it sounded like just one person, she wasn’t certain and had no intention of taking any risks. Edging over on hands and knees to the side of the desk as the sound drew closer, she saw a draculoid entering the reception area, carefully peering around the wall before moving into view as he saw no one. Turning his head occasionally as he moved toward the entrance, the draculoid had clearly not sighted her. Briefly, her hand rested on her gun, but she changed her mind. With no idea where the remaining scarecrow members where, she could easily find herself outnumbered in a firefight with no backup. There was another option. She had heard the rubber soled boots of the draculoid padding, sometimes squeaking, on the vinyl flooring, but knew from memory that her own boots made no such sound. She had no idea why, she didn’t care why, all she knew was that it gave her a strong advantage. Listening intently for the draculoid to pass the reception desk, Red pushed herself slowly to her feet and crept out, still partially crouching.

Almost in the centre of the reception area and only a few feet from the draculoid, Red cursed inwardly as she heard more footsteps coming down the corridor and saw the man in front of her turn his head sharply. She had no idea whether the approaching footsteps were friend or foe. The draculoid’s mask, of course, giving nothing away. It could be a doctor, Killjoy, another draculoid or even Korse, but now she had no option but to announce her presence. With her gun already in her hand, she fired at the same moment the draculoid saw her. As the man fell, she spun around, pointing her gun toward the corridor in anticipation, not even able to find cover this far away from the desk, she prayed the approaching footsteps - now running - were Jet and Kobra’s.

Lowering her gun and sighing in relief as the two most important men in her life rounded the corner brandishing their own weapons, Red heaved a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” Jet asked, noticing the dead draculoid.

Without a word, Kobra was at her side, his hands on her arm and shoulder, looking for signs of injury. Batting his hands away, Red frowned.

“I’m fine!” She replied. “I nearly had him without firing.”
“Or he nearly had you,” Kobra replied, shaking his head.
“You’re doubting my skills?” Red’s eyes widened at what she perceived was an insult.
“No, but we don’t know what skills he has,” Kobra admonished. “You know, there’s a really good reason why I carry a gun. Are you doubting my skills?”
“No,” Red shrugged. “But...”
“We don’t want you risking your safety,” Jet offered a conciliatory smile.
“But...”
“Or ours, for that matter,” he added, hoping it would appeal to her protective side.
“What do you mean?” She frowned, uncertain.
“Let’s just say, for a moment, that he managed to overpower you. Then we come around the corner. We’re captured too. We’re not going to risk your life, are we?”

Out of sight from Red, Kobra smirked; Jet really should have been a diplomat.

“I guess,” Red shrugged. “We’re a team. I need to get used to thinking like a team person. I’ve only had to take care of myself before.”
“Well, how about I do that?” Kobra smoothed her hair back from her face, causing Jet to roll his eyes.
“Is now really the time, Kobra?” He asked flatly.

Kobra shrugged lightly and offered a playful smirk. This time it was Red’s turn to roll her eyes.

“What do you know?” Jet asked, adopting a serious, businesslike expression.
“At least three dracs, well two now, and Korse. Can’t be any more than four dracs, depends how many Korse rides with.”
“Usually just his driver,” Kobra replied. “I don’t ever remember seeing him with more than one drac in the car.”
“Okay,” Red nodded. “Just him and two dracs then.”
“Do you know where they are? Or Harrison for that matter, he was coming to find you,” Jet asked.
“Never came this way,” Red shook her head.
“Party and Ghoul!” Kobra’s eyes widened. “That’s where they are! They got Harrison and he’s taken them to them.”

Jet nodded grimly as all three raced down the long corridor back to the recovery room.

*

“Oh,” Korse smirked as his gaze fell on the sleeping Killjoys, curled up together in the bed. “How adorable. Get Poison and restrain him. I doubt we’ll get much trouble from the other one.”

Notes